


Ianto Jayne Ayres Jones

by AwatereJones



Series: Torchwwod Style Movie re-writes [18]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alt Verse, F/M, Gen, M/M, Movie rewrite, fluffy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-24 05:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17094971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwatereJones/pseuds/AwatereJones
Summary: I didn't enjoy Jane Eyre, I think becuase I did not like the lead actress. It was not an easy translation for me but I was asked politely to try so here goes ... all in all it is a good story and I kept it as true to the movie as I could (not the origional) so here goes.





	1. Chapter 1

First light.

Ianto Jones is running across a meadow, flushed and breathless; the cuffs of his plain, black slacks soaked with dew. He carries a coat and has a small bag of belongings over his shoulder.

He trips, falls to his knees; looks back. Expressive eyes, open features. He is desperate. We see the house he is running from; a Jacobean battlemented mansion.

His need to escape is so great that he crawls forward until he is able to raise himself to his feet.

He runs.

He reaches an antique stile by a brook. he lifts himself on to it. He lands on the road.

And runs.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The sun is higher in the sky. Ianto exhausted, now running down a main road. His spirits lift at the sight of an approaching coach. He flags it down.

Ianto empties his pockets into the driver's hand. He looks at the money then suspiciously back at him. A terse nod indicates he can get in.

Ianto sinks into a dark corner. His fellow passengers look shocked by his dishevelled appearance at such an early hour. He undertakes a tremendous effort not to betray his emotional state. He doesn't sob, he doesn't howl - although his breathing threatens to. Slowly, unable to bear the day, he closes his eyes.

Sunset.

A whitewashed, stone pillar set up where four roads meet on a barren moor. The coach driver opens the door. With a curt nod he indicates that Ianto must get out.

He looks around, dismayed. In each direction there is open moorland for as far as the eye can see. The driver sets off at a good pace - glad to be rid of such a passenger. Ianto puts his hand to his side for his bag of belongings. It is not there.

He runs as fast as he can after the coach. It is receding towards the horizon. he comes to a halt, objectless, lost, alone. He pulls his knitted coat around him.

He leaves the road and sets off across the moor, into the gathering dark.

.

.

.

.

Ianto is on his knees by a strange overhanging rock. The night sky is awesome; the universe is all around him. He is trying to calm himself with a prayer.

.

.

.

.

Day.

Ianto lies on a great rock, soaking up the heat of the sun. He is like someone numb with pain. He watches a lizard crawl over the rock. He is mesmerised.

.

.

..

Ianto squats in the heather and eats bilberries as the light fades. he hungrily licks the juice from his hand.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Dawn

Ianto is asleep in the heather, his coat wrapped around him. A red-haired child in a white nightgown lies by his side, watching him. It is Kai Burns.

Kai reaches out. She touches Ianto's hand. Ianto wakes. He sits up. He is alone.

.

.

.

.

Ianto is crouched on a rock watching the waters go by. The sky is overcast. The first big drops of rain land on the stones. Ianto makes no movement.

A raven lands on a rock nearby. Ianto is suddenly filled with a wild rage. He picks up a stone and hurls it at the bird with a raw cry. The gesture exhausts him. He watches the bird wheel away, as the rain starts to pour.

**.,**

**,**

**,**

**,**

**,**

Twilight

It is raining hard. Ianto sees a small girl come out of the farm with some leftovers. She drops them into a pigpen.

Ianto is leaning into the pigpen. He picks a stiffened mound of porridge out of the mud. He lets the rain wash it. He eats it ravenously.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Next day

It has stopped raining. Ianto is huddled under a tree. He is shaking, shuddering. The life has gone out of his eyes.

The moors rise away above him to the horizon. Ianto looks up at the sun starting to set. The clouds are red and gold.

He sees a small red-haired girl in a white nightgown walking barefoot on the moors ahead of him. The girl turns, looks back at Ianto. With his last strength, Ianto follows.

.

.

.

.

Dark clouds are banking up; the rain starts again. Ianto is struggling through a marsh. His boots are stuck.

He falls. His hand disappears into mud; his face pressed against the earth. He doesn't move. He has reached the point of despair.

The girl's bare feet walk close by, as if waiting for him. Ianto looks up. Where the child should be, he sees a light shining across the moor. Ianto starts crawling.

Ianto is toiling on through the lashing rain towards the light. It has become a window. A brief flash of lightning shows him a low stone cottage. Kai Burns is sitting on the gate.

Ianto is crawling through the narrow garden. On his knees, he peers through a window.

On either side of a bright little fire sit two young women. They look exactly like Ianto; slight, neat, dressed in black. One, Diana, has her hair slightly curled and hides her gentle eyes behind spectacles. The other, Mary, is very young; no more than seventeen. Each has a book on her knee. They are talking intimately.

They look so close, so loving and the room looks so cosy that it pains Ianto considerably.

Ianto knocking at the door. Cheryse, an old servant answers. She is suspicious; Ianto looks like a wretch.

"What do you want?"

Ianto manages to find his voice. "Shelter."

"I can't take in vagrants. Here's a penny. Now take it and go."

"I have no strength to go." Ianto is stunned, staring at the outstretched hand with a penny already being offered.

"You can move off. And if there are others with you tell them we are not alone. We have a gentleman here, and dogs." Cheryse flaps a tea towel at him.

"But I must die if I am turned away."

The door slams shut. Ianto lets out a hopeless wail. "God help me. I will die."

He turns away, his hope gone. As he collapses, he finds himself supported by a strong pair of black-clad arms.

"All of God's creatures must die. But not prematurely - and not on my doorstep I hope."

Ianto is lifted up. he finds himself looking into the face of the handsomest man he has ever seen; Stan-Lee Rivers. He lifts him over the threshold into the warmth of Moor House.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

A fire is roaring in the stove. Cheryse is bent over it.

"We've had a beggar come, Mr Rivers. I sent him... For shame!" Cheryse falls silent as she sees Ianto.

"You did your duty in excluding him. Let me do mine in admitting him" He sets Ianto down before the hearth. He can barely stand. He is soaked to the bone, filthy with mud. His skin has a ghastly pallor. Diana and Mary enter.

"Stan-Lee, who is it?" Diana asks softly.

"I don't know; I found him at the door." He replies as he tries to comfort the bedraggled young man.

Guiltily Cheryse admits "I thought him one of the gypsies from the cross."

"He's as white as death." Mary whispers with concern.

Ianto can hold himself up no longer. Diana moves forward. She and Stan-Lee catch Ianto and help him into a chair. The rain hammers on the windows.

"Cheryse, some water." Diana asks.

"He's worn to nothing. He looks like a spectre. Stan-Lee, if you hadn't taken him in, we would have fallen upon his dead body in the morning." Diana sighs.

"He's no vagrant; I'm sure of it." Stan-Lee agrees.

"There's milk and bread for you." Cheryse bustles back in. Ianto tries to mouth his thanks. he sips the milk. Eats a mouthful of bread. Diana kneels at his side.

"Ask him his name."

"I - I am I –"Ianto cannot speak. He's incapable of uttering his own name. He hears John Reid's voice calling from far away.

" _Ianto Jones!"_

"Please, tell us how we may help you." Diana pleads.

"Can we send for anyone? Who are your people?" Stan-Lee asks.

The questions are deeply troubling to Ianto. He is losing consciousness.

He sees an image of a small girl of ten, running away through a great darkening room. Ianto tries to follow her. The action draws him up out of the kitchen chair.

_He hears John Reid's voice again. "Ianto Jones! Where are you?"_

Ianto, panicked, looking for somewhere to hide, passes out.


	2. where do we find ourselves

**A GRAND RECEPTION ROOM.**

Rain hammers against the windows. Ianto aged ten, looking hunted, runs in looking for somewhere to hide.

He springs behind a curtain. John Reid enters; a fourteen year old, his stomach bursting out of his fancy clothes. He is holding a riding crop as if it is a sword "Come out, rat. I know you are in here. Come out now and I won't punish you."

Ianto watches him pass by. He practises a perfect lunge. "Rat."

He exits. Ianto breathes a sigh of relief. He slowly pulls the curtain across, making the window a private sanctuary. There is a book lying on the seat. He opens it.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto is sitting cross-legged, completely absorbed in his book - a beautifully drawn picture of a cormorant. He runs his finger over it. We hear the sound of great waves plunging on to a shore.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**..**

Ianto, aged ten, is sitting cross-legged on an isolated rock, his eyes locked with those of a stooping black cormorant. Stan-Lee's voice comes from a long way away.

_Stan-Lee's voice as if the breeze in the distance "Diana, Mary help me get him upstairs..."_

The cormorant raises its wings like a great black cloak.

Ianto watches as it takes off and flies away.

.

.

.

.

Ianto has his eyes closed. A great Atlantic wave hits the sash window behind him, drenching it with foam and brine. Suddenly the curtain is pulled back. John Reid stands in front of him. Ianto shrinks back.

"I have been looking for you these last ten minutes." He snarls, "Did you not hear me calling you ya bloody twat?"

"What do you want?"

"Say forgive me, Master Reid"

"I have done nothing wrong. Master Reid." Ianto replies with open fear.

John grabs the book. "Who gave you permission to read my book?"

"I wasn't aware it was yours."

"Everything in this house is mine. You're lucky to live here with gentleman's children like us. Your father had nothing. You should go and beg."

Ianto stares him out. John can sense his contempt. He belts him with the book. Ianto hits his head on the window clasp, drawing blood. he is shocked.

"That's for the look you had on your face. You bad animal."

Ianto snaps. He throws himself upon him, the rage in him released; pummelling, scratching, hurting him in any way he can. He is barely coherent. "Wicked and cruel - you are a slaver - a murderer…"

"I shall tell mother …"

"I hate you John Reid. I hate you"

John is flabbergasted. Like all bullies, he is terrified. "Mamma! Mamma! There's a rat! Rat!"

Ianto bites him. Hard. At that moment, Mrs Reid appears on the scene. John screams. We see Mrs Reid's shocked face. She is an overweight woman pushing forty in a bright, elaborate dress.

.

.

.

.

_Dinah and Mary are gently taking Ianto's soaking clothes off; one at each side of him. Ianto is distressed, approaching a delirium. He resists them._

**.**

**.**

**..**

**.**

Ianto is carried in and set down on a footstool by two servants, Miss Abbot and Bessie - one at each side of him. He is still resisting.

"For shame, hitting your master."

"If you don't sit still you must be tied down!"

The fight goes out of Ianto. He sits, defeated. Bessie, young and plump, quickly wipes his bleeding forehead. She has some compassion. Miss Abbot has none.

"What we do is for your own good. If you are passionate and rude like this, your Aunt Reid will send you away." Bessie sighs.

"You're worse than us servants. We work for our keep; you do nothing." Miss Abbot snorts "Pray for forgiveness Miss Jones or something bad will come down that chimney and fetch you away!"

The door slams. They are gone. Ianto slowly grips the edge of the stool. The room is chill, silent. Red walls and curtains, murky in the fading light.

In front of Ianto, a stone fireplace gapes like a mouth. Beside it, a full length looking-glass in which his pale reflection stares out. Behind him, a bed supported on pillars of mahogany, hung with red.

The piled up pillows and mattresses glare in cold white.

Ianto's breathing is the only sound in the room.

A sudden gust sends rain pelting against the windows like fingernails. A distant moan of wind seems to breathe out of the black hearth. Ianto averts his nervous gaze to the pitted mirror. His eyes lock on the small figure trapped in the mirror's visionary hollow; his white, bleeding face, his eyes glittering with fear.

It is a phantom. The eyes are black, the skin a deathly grey. Blood. Ianto's breathing becomes choked with terror. He can't get his breath. We hear blood rushing through his ears. It sounds like the beating of great wings.

Slowly, a light appears over him. It may be something shining in from outside. But to Ianto it seems as if it is surrounding him, enveloping him. The figure in the looking glass opens its mouth. The scream, held in so long, finally rips from Ianto's throat.

At the sound of the scream, Mrs Reid, slumbering, almost jumps out of her skin.

Miss Abbott almost drops the tea tray she is carrying.

Ianto is banging on the door, screaming, hysterical with terror. Bessie rushes to the door and unlocks it. Ianto flies into her arms.

"Master Jones what is it?"

"Bessie!" Ianto wails, inconsolable.

"Have you seen something?"

"There was a light." Ianto points back into the room.

We see Bessie's own fear as she glances into the dark room.

Mrs Reid is storming towards them, furious. "Bessie, I gave orders that he was to be left in the red room until I came."

"But he screamed so loud ma'am."

"It is play-acting. Let him go. I know your tricks Ianto Jones and I abhor such artifice. Loose Bessie's hands, child." Mrs Reid prises Ianto away from Bessie as she speaks. "You will now stay here an hour longer."

"No - Aunt," Ianto wails "have pity…"

"And only when you are perfectly submissive will I let you out."

"Please - I cannot bear it"

"Silence." She roars "This violence is repulsive."

"I shall be killed"

"Get back!"

"Have mercy, have mercy I beg you…"

Mrs Reid throws him back into the room, slams the door and turns the key. We hear Ianto's unspeakable howls of terror, his anguished bangs upon the door.

Bessie is looking at Mrs Reid aghast. Mrs Reid withers her with a frozen glare.

Dusk. We see Ianto in his distress, hitting his head on the door. He falls back. On the floor, his arms and legs move beyond his control. He is having a fit. When it is over, we see Ianto unconscious. He is lying in a pool of ghostly light.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Through the light, Ianto sees Mary and Diana Rivers at his side.

"He's awake." Mary says softly.

Stan-Lee approaches in his parson's collar, blocking out the light as he looks down. Ianto gazes at him remotely. "I'm sure we'll find he's simply had a misunderstanding with his people. I hope he's not done anything deplorable; there's nothing so sad as a fallen young man."

Mary whispers "Look at the suffering in his eyes. They're like dark pools"

Diana smiles at Mary's tendency to over-dramatise.

"He has a peculiar face; I rather like it." Diana admits.

"He's not at all handsome." Stan-Lee frowns.

"He's so ill, Stan-Lee." Diana argues.

"Ill or well, he'll always be plain." Stan-Lee sniffs.

Ianto's eyes slide away from him and close.


	3. I must never be found

A bright morning. A huge clergyman dressed in black is staring down at Ianto, blocking out the sun. We see him from Ianto's; his expansive chest, dramatic facial hair, huge flared nostrils, frowning brows. He is the epitome of grim. "There is no sight so sad and so deplorable as that of a wicked little boy. Do you know, Ianto Jones, where the wicked go after death?"

"They go to hell."

"And what is hell, can you tell me that?"

"A pit full of fire."

"And should you like to fall into that pit and be burning there forever?"

"No sir." Ianto whispers with a mixture of fear and growing anger.

"What must you do to avoid it?"

"I must keep in good health and not die."

Mrs Reid is by the fireside in an ultra-feminine dress. She puts down her tea cup in irritation. "I've been his sole benefactress and his kindest friend. But he shows no gratitude and brings nothing but discord into my house."

"What is his parentage?"

"He's an orphan. His mother was my late husband's sister. On his deathbed he exhorted me to care for him. I have always treated him as one of my own."

Ianto silently revolts against this lie.

If you accept him at Torchwood One school Mr Brocklehurst, keep a strict eye on him. His worst fault is a tendency to deceit. I'm sorry to tell you that Ianto Jones is a liar."

Ianto's eyes flash with outrage.

"All liars will have their portion in the lake burning with fire and brimstone. He shall be watched, Mrs Reid."

"I wish him to be made useful, to be kept humble." she demands.

"You can rest assured dear lady that we mortify our girls and boys in the sentiments of vanity and pride. They are taught to be quiet, plain and modest."

A passion of resentment is forming in Ianto.

"We shall root out the wickedness in this small, ungrateful plant." He assured her.

Mrs Reid smiles sweetly. "And as for its vacations, it must spend them all at Torchwood One"

.

.

.

Ianto is climbing the staircase. John Reid blocks his way. "So, Rat, you're being sent away. It's as I thought; you're not fit to associate with me."

Ianto snaps. He cries out "You are not fit to associate with me!"

**.**

**.**

**.**

Mrs Reid is at her desk. Ianto appears in front of her.

"You said I was a liar. Well I am not. If I was, I should say that I loved you and I don't. I dislike you the worst of anybody in the world except John Reid. He is a liar, not I." Ianto says with a nervous breath.

"How dare you speak in this manner."

"I'll never call you Aunt again as long as I live and if anyone asks how I liked you I'll say that the very thought of you makes me sick." Ianto spits.

"You wouldn't dare." She gasps with horror.

"I'll remember how you thrust me back into the Red Room and locked me there to my dying day. Even when you knew it was haunted and I begged to be let out. People think you are good but you are bad and hard-hearted and I'll let everyone at Torchwood One know what you have done!" Ianto feels betters for saying what is in his heart, after all he knows he will never be here again.

"Children must be corrected for their faults."

"Deceit is not my fault!" Ianto defends, righteous now.

"But you are passionate."

"My Uncle Reid is in heaven and can see all that you do and think; so can my mother and father. They know how you hate me and wish me dead. They can see. They see everything you do and they will judge you, Mrs Reid."

Mrs Reid has turned quite pale. Ianto blazes with victory.

.

.

.

.

.

Bessie is waiting with Ianto while his belongings are loaded onto a public coach, its top laden with passengers. "You're such a queer, solitary little thing. If only you could make yourself more appealing. Perhaps if you tried smiling from time to time, people would find you more pleasant …"

"Don't scold me Bessie. I know you dislike me" Ianto is near tears, the fear of the unknown heavy.

"I don't dislike you Master; I'm fonder of you than of anyone." She is aghast.

"You don't show it." Ianto mutters as he moves to get away from her.

"Master Ianto…" she sobs.

Ianto throws his arms around Bessie and embraces her with great force. Bessie returns the embrace, surprised, moved. Ianto gets into the coach.

Bessie looks up at the driver. "You take good care of him."

Ianto's small, pale face peers out of the coach window, watching Gateshead recede. He doesn't cry. But Bessie can't stave off her tears.

.

.

.

.

.

Ianto, half asleep is carried out of a coach and into a howling gale. He is taken under a stone inscription: `Torchwood One Institution'. He is set down in front of a woman with striking features and intelligent eyes; Miss Temple.

She bends down and looks into Ianto's face. "What's your name, child?"

"Ianto Jones."

"You are very young to be sent alone, Ianto Jones." She gently touches Ianto's cheek with her finger. Ianto manages the ghost of a smile.

.

.

.

.

Ianto is lying back against clean white pillows. His hair brushed and he is clean shaven. Diana and Mary are full of kindness but Stan-Lee's face is cold, dispassionate.

"My name is Ianto Elliott..."

"Ianto Elliot." Mary repeats softly.

"Where do you come from, Mister Elliott?" Diana asks, stroking a hand gently.

Ianto gives no answer.

"Who can we send for to help you?" Stan-Lee demands.

"No one."

There is an intake of breath from Mary.

"Do you mean to say that you are absolutely without home and without friends?" Stan-Lee unfolds his arms as he watches his sisters react with sorrow.

"Yes sir."

"How did you come to be roaming the moors, Mister Elliott?" Stan-Lee is gentler with his voice as his sisters glare at him.

"Don't upset him, Stan-Lee." Diana scolds "he must not be interrogated so."

"Mr Rivers, you and you sisters have done me a great service, the greatest man can do - you have rescued me from death." Ianto smiles softly to calm the two women who smile back as a dower face is transformed to a handsome young man.

"How are we to help you if we know nothing about you?" Stan-Lee points out patently.

"I'll tell you as much as I can. I am an orphan; brought up a dependent; educated in a charity school where I passed six years as a pupil and two as a teacher. I left a year since to become a private Handler …"

"YES" Mary seems excited as she swings to stare at her brother.

Ianto continues to speak to Stan-Lee "A good situation, where I remained until..."

Mary also continues to squeal "Diana, didn't I say so? Didn't I say she was a Handler?"

"We did wonder." Diana hastens to assure him "We mean no offence but you have a certain look. Mary and I work as Handlers too."

With great interest Ianto raises his eyebrows "Do you?"

"We are currently trying to teach ourselves German, so we may find better positions." Mary explains.

"You're not working at present?"

"We came home only for our father's funeral." Diana nods.

"He died three weeks ago." Mary adds with a soft sigh.

"I am very sorry to hear it."

Stan-Lee has no patience with the change of subject. "Why did you leave your place of employment?"

Ianto sinks back in the pillows. "I... It was a catastrophe."

"What did you do?"

"I am free from any blame, sir. I was happy." Ianto is deeply distressed.

"That's enough for now, Stan-Lee." Diana immediately defends.

"You must rest, Mister Elliott." Mary agreed.

"The name sounds strange to Ianto."

"Why did you start?" Stan-Lee asks with confusion.

"Because that is not my name."

"You haven't given us your real name?" Diana asks with a gentle pat to his arm to show no anger.

"Ianto shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I must not ever be found."

Diana and Mary glance at each other, fascinated.


	4. bending or breaking

Ianto is dressing himself. He stops, weakly holding the back of a chair for support, looking out of the window at the sun setting over the hills.

Stan-Lee is praying, his voice echoing up the stairs "Merciful Jesus, enlighten thou me with the brightness of thine inward light..."

Diana is helping Ianto down the stairs.

"And take away all darkness from the habitation of my heart..." Stan-Lee is praying over Ianto, Diana and Mary as they sit at the table. Mary catches Ianto's eye, gives him shy smile. "Join me to thyself with an inseparable band of love... For thou, even thou alone, dost satisfy him that loveth thee..."

Ianto finds himself staring at Stan-Lee, who prays ardently. "And without thee all things are vain and empty. Amen."

Stan-Lee opens his eyes and looks searchingly at Ianto. He immediately looks down as they all repeat "Amen."

"Welcome to our table, Mister Elliott." Diana smiles, passng a basket of rolls.

"I'd appreciate it if you called me Ianto. It is my own name."

"It's wonderful to see you on your feet, Master Ianto."

Ianto turns his attention to Stan-Lee. "I trust I will not be eating long at your expense, Mr Rivers."

"You wish to be independent of my charity?" he asks with amusement.

"I wish to work, sir. Show me how to work or how to seek work; that's all I ask." Ianto agrees.

"You're not fit enough to work" Diana points out.

"My sisters have always taken pleasure in keeping injured birds but I'm more inclined to put you in a way of keeping yourself - and shall endeavour to do so, if that's what you wish." Stan-Lee waves a hand to soothe his bristling sisters.

"With all my heart, sir."

"It's a shame he has no choice of helpers, Stan-Lee, and must put up with such crusty people as you." Diana snorts.

"This school you were at, Mister Elliot, this charitable institution; what did it prepare you for?"

Ianto flinches at the memory of a bundle of sharp twigs come down on a child's bare neck, like a whip.

"Was it a thorough education?"

"Most thorough."

.

.

.

.

Miss Scatcherd's bitter life is in her face and voice. "Burns, Kai Burns!"

Ianto, aged ten, looks up. he is wearing a brown stuffy suit with a cap like all the other boys and girls. Silence reigns in the school hall.

A red haired girl of about thirteen stands up; Kai Burns. Miss Scatcherd holds up an apron in which a hole has been mistakenly cut. "You're a slattern and a disgrace!"

Kai Burns undoes the back of her dress. The punishment is given; a dozen sharp, stinging whacks with the birch twigs.

Ianto is appalled. But to his astonishment and awe, Kai Burns doesn't cry; she barely changes her expression. As the strokes go on – seven, eight, nine - Kai seems like one in a trance. Ianto is deeply affected.

On the eleventh stroke, the door bursts open and a visiting party walks in: the Brocklehurst family. Miss Temple escorts two young girls dressed in peacock finery and two smart, bombastic ladies. Mr Brocklehurst follows. Kai's punishment is forgotten as the students rush to their feet.

Ianto, in a panic, drops his slate and breaks it. Brocklehurst's eyes sweep the room. They land on him. "I might have known. The new boy. Step forward, Ianto Jones."

Filled with dread, Ianto steps forward.

"It is my duty dear children, to warn you that this boy is not one of God's own lambs." Brocklehurst declares.

We see the look of frustration on Miss Temple's face.

"He is a castaway and an alien in his flock and you must be on your guard against him. For this child... is a liar!" He points to a tall stool. Ianto stands on it. "This is the pedestal of infamy - and you'll remain upon it all day. You'll receive no sustenance and no comfort, for you must learn how barren is the life of the sinner. Children, I exhort you to shun him, exclude him, shut him out from this day forth. Withhold the hand of friendship and deny your love to Ianto Jones, the liar."

.

.

.

.

The hall is empty but for the small figure of Ianto, high on his stool, feeling his isolation like pain. Across the room is the slightly bigger figure of Kai, hunched, the back of her dress still open, the skin on her neck raw. The sun is setting. At last Ianto starts to sob.

"Come now, don't cry." Kai whispers.

"You're not allowed to speak to me. I must be shunned." Ianto hisses.

"Mr Brocklehurst is not a God. He's not liked or admired here"

"He said I was a liar." Ianto pouts "I am not a liar!"

"If your own conscience approves you, then so will I." Kai decides.

Ianto is deeply gratified. **"** How do you bear it?"

"Bear what?" Kai seems confused.

"Being struck."

"I'm a trial to Miss Scatcherd." Kai explains "She hits me to improve me."

"If she hit me I would get that birch from her hand and break it under her nose."

"You'd just be punished even more." Kai shrugs "It's part of life here."

"I have always been excluded and alone and hated. Miss Abbott used to call me an ugly little toad." Ianto shares.

Kai approaches Ianto.

"You're not ugly. Do you know what is inside you?" Kai asks.

"What?"

"The spark of your spirit, the principle of light and thought, pure and bright, as perfect as anything created." Kai smiles as if thinking of a fond memory. Or some dream.

"What do you mean?" Ianto is not convinced.

Kai rolled her eyes, then leans forward "Your soul. Your soul is beautiful. Your soul has value - more value than anything on earth."

"Is that true?"

"Yes. God sees your beauty. Even as you stand on that stool, there is an invisible world around you, a kingdom of spirits. It is everywhere. Angels see your pain." Kai is pleased with herself "Angels know your innocence."

"Angels?"

Kai smiles a wide smile. "Do you not believe in angels?"

They hear the door. Kai runs back to her place; cowers. Miss Temple appears in a shaft of light at the door. "Come here, children."

They approach, dreading more punishment.

"I shall investigate Mr Brocklehurst's claims against you, Ianto. And unless they are proved, you will be exonerated." Miss Temple looks over her shoulder. "Also, I understand you have had no food today."

She quickly presses a slice of hard cake into each child's hand and walks away. Ianto and Kai look at one another, deeply moved by her kindness.

.

.

.

.

Ianto stands between Diana and Mary high above Moor House. They are dressed similarly in hats and cloaks. They watch a hawk dive, their heads moving in unison. Their eyes land upon Moor House.

"We've lived here all our lives but the house must be shut up now." Mary explains.

"Why?"

"We can't afford to keep it on. Diana and I will return to our charges in a few days and Stan-Lee will go to his parsonage."

Down below them, Stan-Lee leaves Moor House and walks towards the village. Ianto watches him.

"It'll be a hard parting for us. We may not see him again for years." Diana tries to hide her dismay in the wind.

"Why ever not?"

"He means to be a missionary. He's going to India to do Gods's work." Mary sighs.

Ianto is confused "Can he not do God's work here?"

"This quiet parish will never do for him; he almost raves in his restlessness. It breaks our hearts." Mary is almost in tears now.

"Stan-Lee burns with talents and ambition. But he lacks the means for advancement here. Our poverty thwarts him at every turn and so he has chosen to lay all his gifts on God's altar." Diana argues with her sister.

"We've tried to persuade him to stay but in some things our brother is - he is…" Mary struggles for the right word.

Inexorable as death." Diana finishes.

"We are now without father. We'll soon be without home and brother." Mary looks at Ianto with a shrug of acceptance.

Ianto feels a powerful compassion for them.

"In one thing you are fortunate." Ianto says softly as he looks over at the horizon. "You have each other."


	5. sorrow lingers

Ianto is looking at the high wall which is the horizon of his world at Torchwood One. His eyes come to rest on the main door. Two men are carrying a small coffin out of the school. Brocklehurst follows it with a menthol-soaked cloth over his mouth and nose. He becomes aware of Ianto's eyes on him. He looks away.

**TORCHWOOD ONE - THE DORMITORY that night.**

Ianto is creeping down a corridor in his night shirt. He peers in through the dormitory door. It has been turned into a sanatorium. Camphor and vinegar are being burnt. Ianto can hardly look at the sick children.

Miss Temple, pale with exhaustion, is speaking intimately to Madame Pierrot, the French mistress. Ianto overhears. "This is the result of semi-starvation and neglected colds; Brockelhurst's idea of mortifying"

Miss Temple can't say more.

"Write to the governors. You must."

Ianto creeps on.

**INT. NIGHT. TORCHWOOD ONE - MISS TEMPLE'S ROOM.**

Ianto opens the door. A small bed has been set up at the foot of Miss Temple's. In it lies Kai Burns. A candle is set on a table at her side. Ianto takes her hand.

"Kai."

"Is it you, Ianto? Have you come to say goodbye?" Kai rasps.

"You're cold."

"I'm very happy. I am going home."Kai tries to comfort.

"Back to your father?"

"My father has a new wife. He'll not miss me much." Kai coughs out.

"Then where?" Ianto whispers with surprise, looking around for some indicator of what is happening.

"To my future home, where all is light. I am going to God." Kai sighs softly, done talking.

"No..." Ianto is devastated. He climbs into bed next to Kai. For a moment, they hold each other. Ianto's tears silently fall.

"Don't be sad. I will escape great suffering by dying young." Kai believes this to be true and Ianto tries but cannot find comfort from that.

"No..."

"I don't have any talent to make my way in life. I should be always at fault. But God is my friend. He loves me"

"Then he must save you." Ianto argues.

"He is saving me."

Ianto cannot articulate his distress at Kai's words.

"I feel like I could sleep now." Kai is faltering "I like to have you near …"

"I won't leave you." Ianto promises.

"You're so warm and alive. Ianto, you have a passion for living."

**.**

**.**

**..**

**.**

We see Miss Temple looking down at the bed in the dazzling, morning light. Ianto, waking, has his small arms around Kai, as if fiercely protecting her. Kai is ashen, her eyes open, staring at some unseen thing. She is dead. Miss Temple lifts Ianto away.

"Ianto..."

Ianto realises what has happened. We hear the sound of his distress begin. He is inconsolable. "No, no, no …"

"Ianto?" Mary's vice cuts into the scene.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto is staring out at the autumn rain. He surreptitiously wipes his tears away and smiles up at Mary. "Have you something for me to do?"

"You are doing something already. May I see?"

Ianto hands her a book. He has drawn a bride. "That's Miss Temple on her wedding day. She was my teacher; a great influence on me. Under her guidance I became a teacher too."

Mary turns the page. It shows a sketch of Stan-Lee Rivers. Mary gasps in delight. She takes the book straight to St John, who is diligently working at his desk.

Stan-Lee"

"No, Mary, please" Ianto begs.

"See how skilled Ianto is." Mary gushes.

Stan-Lee looks at the sketch of himself. He is quite taken aback. He looks over at Ianto, who is quite embarrassed.

"She is better than any drawing master we have ever had." Mary points out.

For a moment, Stan-Lee seems to be weighing up whether to be insulted or not. "How fierce I am, Mister Elliott."

"Mr Rivers, I wondered if you had yet heard of any work that I could do." Ianto said instead of answering.

"I found you a situation some days ago but I've delayed telling you because the work is lowly and I fear you'll scorn it." He admits and Ianto cants his head.

"I shan't mind what I do." Ianto assures him.

He warns Ianto gently "As I am poor and obscure, the help I can offer is of the meanest sort."

"Stan-Lee, what are you going to offer him? Not washerman, I hope?" Diana asks with concern.

"When I took over the parish two years ago it had no school. I opened one for boys; I now intend to open one for girls and boys. The school mistress or Master will have a two-roomed cottage paid for by local benefactors and will receive fifteen pounds a year. You can see how humble, how ignoble it is."

On the contrary, Ianto is deeply gratified. "Mr Rivers, I thank you heartily and I accept with all my heart."

"But you comprehend me? It's a village school – cottagers children. What will you do with all your fine accomplishments?" he gapes.

"I will save them until they are wanted. They will keep." Ianto smiles at him. Stan-Lee is impressed.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto is at the blackboard in a freshly painted school room. In front of him are about twenty village children, aged from six to sixteen. They are hanging on his every word.

Ianto is writing a neat line of 'a's.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ianto's first home is like a doll's house. He walks through it from the whitewashed bedroom with its little single bed, through the parlour with its tiny fireplace into the scullery kitchen. he retraces his steps back into the parlour. he turns round and surveys it.

Silence but for the crackling of the fire and the blowing of the wind. He feels glad, grateful, but very, very alone.

He hears Brocklehurst's voice.

" _I hear you are to leave us, Mister Jones."_

He spins around as if he is there.

.

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.

.

Brocklehurst is at the church door; Ianto looking at him coldly. Ianto holds a bunch of wild flowers. "Yes. Excuse me."

He walks into the graveyard. There are over forty small graves marked with wooden crosses, each bearing a child's name. One of them says Kai Burns. Ianto lays down his flowers.

He looks up at Brocklehurst. He cannot meet Ianto's eye.

We hear the voice of Mrs Harkness. _"If Ianto Jones of Torchwood One School..."_

Ianto tries to quell his great unhappiness. he springs into action, straightening his furniture, stoking his fire as the ghostly voice haunts him.

" _...Who advertised in the Yorkshire Herald, possesses the acquirements_ _mentioned..."_

Ianto, looking younger and more hopeful, with his belongings in a small trunk, awaits an approaching public coach.

" _...And if he is in a position to give satisfactory references, a situation can be offered where there is but one pupil, a little girl under ten years of age and where the salary is thirty pounds a year."_

Ianto is in his scullery putting all his energy into scrubbing dishes still ignoring the voice.

" _Ianto Jones is requested to send references and all particulars to Mrs Harkness at Torchwood Hall."_

Ianto closes his eyes, trying to banish his thoughts. It is no good.

The memories crowd in.


	6. Toshiko

**TORCHWOOD HOUSE - THE GROUND FLOOR.**

A smiling lady dressed in black approaches Ianto through the darkness - Mrs Alice Harkness. Ianto is still stunned that he got a job in the house of the elite Torchwood House itself … the family responsible for all the schools and orphanages for wayward children in the area. After all, he was one himself not so long ago.

"How do you do, my dear? What a long and tedious journey you must have had of it. John is quite the slowest driver in the county. You must be cold to the bone."

"Are you Mrs Harkness?"

"Indeed I am; come and warm yourself in here." Mrs Harkness leads Ianto up the dark corridor and into a cosy parlour. Leah, a young maidservant, follows. "Your poor hands must be quite numb; here, let me help you."

Mrs Harkness undoes the buttons on Ianto's coat. Ianto is taken aback, unused to motherliness of any kind. "Leah, make a little hot port and cut a sandwich or two."

Leah eyes Ianto with great curiosity. She hurries away.

"Draw nearer the fire. John is taking your trunk up to your room." She encourages. Knitting apparatus lies abandoned on a fireside chair. Mrs Harkness moves it and gestures for Ianto to sit. "I've put you at the back of the house; I hope you don't mind. The rooms at the front have much finer furniture but they are so gloomy and solitary I think."

Ianto can't help noticing that every surface is covered in lace, embroidery, or fine crochet. The whole room is an advertisement for Mrs Harkness' skill at handicrafts – and testament to the hours she has spent alone. "I'm so glad you are come. To be sure this is a fine old house but I must confess that in winter one can feel a little dreary and alone. Leah is a very nice girl and John and Martha good people too, but they are servants – and one cannot talk to them on terms of equality."

"Am I to have the pleasure of meeting Miss Harkness tonight?" Ianto asks.

"Who?"

"Miss Harkness - my pupil?" Ianto prompts, confused by the woman's expression.

Alice laughs softly "Oh you mean Miss Sato; Mr Jack's ward. She is to be your pupil."

"Who is Mr Jack?"

"Why, the owner of Torchwood."

"I thought Torchwood Hall belonged to you."

Bursting into laughter the woman flaps her hand "Oh bless you child, what an idea. To me? I am only the housekeeper."

"Forgive me …" Ianto is now openly confused.

"There is a distant connection between Mr Jack and I – my husband's father was a Harkness, cousin to Jack's father - but I'd never presume on it. Heavens, me, owner of Torchwood?" She continues to laugh. A bashful smile is playing on Ianto's lips. Mrs Harkness is beginning to thaw him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Mrs Harkness is carrying a lamp across the great hall; the only light. Ianto can perceive grandeur looming out of the darkness; Jacobean fireplace, coat of arms, head of a stag. Very gloomy, eerie. His breath is vaporising in the cold.

"We shall have a cheerful house this winter..." she says hopefully.

As Ianto follows Mrs Harkness up the stairs, light is thrown on portraits of dour, craggy, long dead ancestors.

"With Miss Sato here - and with you - we'll have quite a merry time of it." She is definitely trying too hard.

Dark heavy drapes, another striking portrait. A dark, voluptuous woman in an 18th Century gown, ruby lipped, one full breast exposed. Ianto glances away, taken aback by the woman's bold expression and her nakedness.

"I'm sure that last winter – and what a severe one - if it didn't rain it snowed and if it didn't snow it blew a gale - last winter I declare that not a soul came to the house from November to February." Mrs Harkness leads Ianto through the wood-panelled darkness as she talks "I got quite melancholy night after night alone. When spring finally came I thought it a great relief that I hadn't gone distracted."

She opens the door to a small but delightful room. "Here."

Ianto looks in: a fire burning, a lamp lit by his bed, a soft quilt, pale chintz curtains.

"OH **"** he is utterly speechless. His eight years of physical discomfort and hardship are over.

"Good night, my dear. I hope you'll be comfy."

"Thank you." Ianto gasps.

Mrs Harkness can see how affected he is - and how hard he is trying to button it down.

.

.

.

.

Next morning Ianto opens the curtains. He draws his breath in at the sight of the grounds. They are beautiful.

Ianto enters a magnificent room. Mrs Harkness is dusting.

"What a beautiful house." He says softly as he does not want to startle her.

"Mr Jack's visits here are always unexpected. He doesn't like to arrive and find everything all swathed up, so I keep it in constant readiness. Now, come and meet Miss Sato. Did I mention she was Japanese?"

Toshiko Sato, an exquisitely dressed child of eight, is chatting animatedly to Ianto and Mrs Harkness. At her side is Sophie, her nurse - a desperately shy and lonely girl.

Toshiko gushes in French "Sophie has been crying because no one understands. Nobody can speak to us except for Mr Jack and he has gone away. I speak Japanese and French, poor Sophie only French"

"Would you ask her about her parents? Mr Jack's neglected to tell me anything about her." Alice asks.

"Where did you live Toshiko, before you came to Torchwood?" Ianto asks in Japanese.

Toshiko lights up as she realises she is with someone who will challenge her "With Mama - but she is gone to the Holy Virgin now."

"Her mother has passed away."

In French Toshiko continues "Mama used to teach me to dance and say verses. When gentlemen came to see her I used to dance for them or sit on their knees and sing. May I sing for you now?"

"Well - that would be lovely." Ianto smiles then turns To Mrs Harkness to say in English "Toshiko is going to show us her accomplishments."

Toshiko adopts a lovelorn pose. She sings an operetta song; a forsaken lady plotting vengeance on her lover. Her high voice warbles with pretended emotion. The effect is rather weird. Ianto and Mrs Harkness watch, open-mouthed.

"How very …..French..." Alice splutters.

.

.

.

.

.

Mrs Harkness is finishing a coat. Ianto is showing Toshiko pictures of little objects that he has sketched. Toshiko names them in English.

Ianto gives Toshiko a sketch of herself.

"Me! It is me!" Toshiko squeals with glee.

Mrs Harkness shakes out the finished coat and puts it round Ianto's shoulders, departing before Ianto can protest. "Here. For you."

Ianto is delighted at the kindness of the gift.

.

.

.

.

Ianto holds a candle, the coat around him; the moaning sound of a gale outside. He holds his candle up to the portrait of the voluptuous woman.

He stares at it curious, both as a boy and as an artist. He brings the candle close, to see how the brushwork has achieved the effect of flesh. He hears a low, knowing laugh in the darkness behind him. He is startled.

"Who's there?"

His own huge shadow is the only thing that moves. he hears the laugh again. he follows it through the darkness, alert with fear. A door clicks shut at the end of the corridor.

To his relief Ianto sees Mrs Harkness approach with a lamp.

"Who sleeps up here?"

"No one. This part of the house is quite empty, except for you and me." Alice shrugs.

I heard someone." Ianto insists.

"You can't have done."

"A laugh. Someone laughed."

Mrs Harkness flounders for a second.

"Oh - that must be Grace Poole. She likes to sit up here with her sewing. Rather an eccentric soul." She shouts sharply "Grace? Grace!"

A door opens. Ianto sees a broad-faced woman with slow, intelligent eyes. She looks as if she has just woken up.

"Mister Jones has heard a laugh."

Grace looks at Ianto with sly curiosity. She leaves the sewing room and opens a door through which a flight of steep steps are revealed. Grace climbs them and disappears.

.

.

.

.

Ianto is on the turreted roof, looking up at the cawing rooks - and down at the view; a white, frosted wilderness.

Ianto senses a presence behind him. He quickly turns. Mrs Harkness is coming through the rooftop door. "I thought I might find you up here. I've been waiting to pour our tea."

"I'm not in need of tea, thank you."

Mrs Harkness approaches, concerned. "What is it, child? You've been here three months now and I'm worried that the position is not enough / to occupy your …"

"Oh, Mrs Harkness, no. I'm so thankful to be at Torchwood. Please don't think I'm so ungrateful as to be discontented." Ianto says quickly.

"But it's a quiet life, isn't it? This isolated house; a still doom for a young man..." she argues.

Ianto looks out at the view once more. "I wish a lowly man could have action in his life, like a gentleman. It agitates me to pain that the skyline over there is ever our limit. I long sometimes for a power of vision that would overpass it. If I could behold all I imagine... I've never seen a city, never spoken with men. I've never even seen a town of any size. And I fear my whole life will pass, without ever having..."

Mrs Harkness' troubled look makes Ianto fall silent. Mrs Harkness looks as if she is about to say something – then puts on her practical face, the moment of intimacy gone. "Well now - exercise is a great cure for anything, they say. I have some letters to post; will you take them?"


	7. just when he was starting to get comfortable

Ianto is walking with purpose, carrying a bundle of letters. The exercise is lifting his spirits. The sun is sinking, turning the frost gold.

A brook runs close to the path; half frozen. Its slow trickle is the only sound to be heard. Ianto moves slowly, acutely aware of everything around him.

Further into the wood, the brook has frozen right across the path. Ianto slips on it as he passes. The noise of his feet echoes. he steadies himself.

He gazes at a huddle of snowdrops, their heads bowed. A crystal drop of water runs to the end of a snowdrop and begins to freeze as he watches. It is held suspended as if the whole winter is contained in it.

The moon is mounting the sky. Ianto hears a sound like the beating of wings. The blood is rushing through his ears.

His trance is broken by the figure of a great dog – which glides past him so close it almost knocks him off his feet. The beating is loud; not wings she realises, but the rush of an approaching horse. It is almost on top of him before he can move. His shocked, pale face, his black garments startle both horse and rider.

"What the fuck…"

The rider gets the horse under control and continues, only to have his horse slip on the ice. Both man and horse fall with a crash. The dog begins to bark, until the hills echo with the sound. The horse is on one side; the man is lying, trapped beneath it on the ice; Jack Harkness.

"Hellfire."

Ianto is confounded.

"Pilot, get down! GET DOWN I SAY!"

"Can I do anything, sir?" Ianto finally finds his voice.

Jack stares at him; a tiny black figure, surrounded by darkening frost, the low moon behind him.

"Get back."

Ianto doesn't move. Jack turns to his horse. With much stamping and clattering, the horse clambers to its feet. Jack seems relieved.

He tries to stand himself. His ankle will bear no weight. He lets out an involuntary cry. It echoes "Damnation."

"Are you injured, sir?"

Jack looks at him once more. He manages to get himself off the ice. He sits on a nearby stile. Ianto approaches him. He now has the moon on his face. He begins to look less like a phantom and more like a boy … a pretty one.

"If you are hurt and want help I can fetch someone from the village. I'm on my way there to post a letter."

Jack looks as if he doesn't believe him "Where do you come from?"

"Torchwood Hall."

"Whose house is that?"

"Mr Jack Harkness'."

"Do you know Mr Jack?" he asks Ianto.

"No, I've never seen him."

Jack is trying to place him. he is a puzzle to him. "You're not a servant there..."

"I am the Handler, sir."

"The Handler." A slow smile as Jack snorts.

"Gods take me, I had forgotten." Examining Ianto once more, he laughs a low laugh. "The Handler."

Ianto does not like to be laughed at.

"Have you got an umbrella I can use as a stick?" the rider asks as he limps slowly towards Ianto.

"No."

"Then try to get hold of his bridle and lead him to me."

Ianto doesn't like his imperious tone. He looks at the horse; huge, trampling, nervous. Jack is amused. "If you would be so kind..."

Ianto obeys. He endeavours to catch the bridle but the horse rears away. Ianto falls on the ice. Jack bursts out laughing. Ianto picks himself up.

"Perhaps it would be easier to bring me to the horse." Jack laughs "Come here."

Ianto resists.

Jack's smile fades as he sees fear and he asks in a softer tone "Forgive me. I must beg of you to come here."

Ianto approaches. Jack instantly leans all his weight on him. He almost crumples under it; the first time he has ever touched and been touched by another man. He holds him up. And walks him closer to his horse.

"Janet." The horse approaches him. Jack calms it. He springs into the saddle, grimacing as he wrenches his sprain. "Thank you. (He bows.) Now, make haste with your letter."

Jack's spurred heel makes the horse start and rear. Ianto steps back. The horse bounds away, the dog rushing in its traces. All three disappear.

Ianto doesn't move until the sound of hooves has faded away. His face is flushed, his eyes glitter in the dark.

.

.

Ianto runs up to the front door. He pushes it open. To his amazement, there is a fire burning in the stone fireplace. The whole hall is lit. The double doors are open into the library. Mrs Harkness is hurriedly approaching. "Mr Jack is here."

"Oh?"

"Go and change your suit; he wishes to meet you."

"I have to change?" Ianto looks donw at his plain black suit with surprise.

"Oh yes - I always dress for the evening when Mr Jack is here".

"But all my suits are the same."

"You must have one that is better? He's in a terrible humour; the doctor has been. His horse fell in Hay lane and his ankle is sprained." She gasps with horror.

Mrs Harkness anxiously hurries back into the library. A large dog wanders out. Ianto finds himself looking at Pilot.

He smiles.

Ianto enters. Jack is in front of a superb fire – one foot bandaged and supported on a stool. Pilot is at his feet - and so is Toshiko, gazing adoringly at him.

Jack is looking through Ianto's portfolio of sketches and watercolours. Ianto feels utterly exposed - as if his diary is being read. Mrs Harkness timidly interrupts. "Here is Mister Jones, Sir."

Without looking up Jack mutters "Let him sit."

Ianto sits. Jack continues to study his work.

"I have examined Toshiko and I find you've taken great pains with her. She's not bright, she has no talents - yet in a short time she's made much improvement."

Toshiko is gazing at him uncomprehending, her face radiant. Ianto feels a bristling as he struggles not to defend the child who is bright as a button actually "Thank you."

"You've been resident here three months?"

"Yes, sir."

"And from whence do you hail; what's your tale of woe?"

"Pardon?" Ianto blinks with confusion.

"All Handlers have a tale of woe; what's yours?" Jack continues to flip pages like discussing the weather. Ianto is now getting slightly insulted.

"I was brought up by my Aunt, Mrs Reid of Gateshead, in a house far finer than this. At ten years old I went to Torchwood One school where I received as good an education as I could hope for." He bristled politely "I have no tale of woe, sir."

"Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

"Do you remember them?" he finally looks up.

"No."

"And why are you not with Mrs Reid of Gateshead now?" he frowns, showing that he smells a rat somewhere.

"She cast me off, sir." Ianto sees no need to lie.

"Why?"

"Because I was burdensome and she disliked me." Ianto shrugs, not caring if this one feels the same.

"Torchwood One; that's one of our charity schools, isn't it?" Jack looks aghast, his own views on the 'family business'known as he openly despised the lack of funding for those children.

"Yes."

"How long did you survive there?"

"Eight years." Ianto didn't flinch under the stare.

"No tale of woe..." Jack snorts, throwing the pad on the table like it is nothing, annoying Ianto more.

"I daily thank providence for sending us Mister Jones. he's a kind and patient teacher and an invaluable companion …" Alice rushes to defend her only real friend here.

"Don't trouble yourself to give him a character. I'll judge for myself. He began by felling my horse."

"Sir?"

"I have him to thank for this sprain." Jack huffs.

Mrs Harkness looks at Ianto, bewildered. Jack lifts one of his watercolours. "Toshiko has brought me these; are they yours?"

"Yes sir".

A swollen sea. A cormorant, a golden bracelet held in its beak. A girl's arm coming out of the water, white and deathly, her drowned figure underneath.

"Where did you get your copies?"

"Out of my head."

"That head I now see on your shoulders?" Jack seems amused as Ianto's bland face becomes even more droll.

"Yes sir."

He turns the next. The top of a hill. An expanse of twilight sky. Rising up, a girl's shape, her forehead crowned with a star, red hair flowing; Kai Burns. "Who's this?"

"The evening star."

Jack gives him a direct gaze. "Why did you bewitch my horse?"

Ianto cannot reply.

.

.

.

.

Ianto is by the blackboard, where he is writing sums.

"Tonight I will have my cadeau." Toshiko says, practicing her English but unable to remember the correct word for gift "He always bring me a cadeau."

Mrs Harkness breathlessly enters. "Sorry to disturb. He's asked for your art."

Ianto looks at her in disbelief. "What for?"

"He wishes to have it." She repeats like Ianto is simple.

"Why?" Ianto has placed the chalk down and is looking at her, then the desk.

"To show to his company, I should think. Is this it here? Thank you."

Ianto watches helplessly as Mrs Harkness takes his portfolio.

.

.

.

.

Ianto is crossing the landing holding Toshiko's hand.

Downstairs, the library doors swing wide open. The sound of male laughter can be heard; gentlemen walk out into the hall. Jack follows, walking with a stick.

"Monsieur!" Toshiko says with glee.

All eyes turn upon the landing. Ianto tries to find a shadow to back into but there are none. Toshiko curtsies.

"Ah, there we are..." Jack says grandly and it is unclear whether he is referring to Toshiko or Ianto. He makes a bow. The men are staring at Ianto with great curiosity. It makes him uncomfortable.

He tugs Toshiko away.


	8. more than bats in the Belfry

The drawing room.

A box tied with ribbons sits on the table.

"Ma boite, ma boite!" Toshiko crows as she rushes for it.

Jack is leaning against the mantelpiece, drinking. "Take it away you genuine Japanese daughter of Paris and amuse yourself with disembowelling it."

"We'll open it together, shall we?" Mrs Harkness kindly leads Toshiko away. Ianto is about to cross the room with them.

"Mister Jones. Sit there." He gestures to a chair by the fire. Ianto obeys. He studies Jack. He is intent on Toshiko, who is pulling a pink satin dress out of the box. "I'm not fond of children."

"Oh Ciel! Que c'est beau!" Toshiko screams with delight.

"Nor do I particularly enjoy simple-minded old ladies. But you might suit me - if you would."

"How, sir?"

"By distracting me from the mire of my thoughts." Jack speaks softly and Ianto cants his head with surprise.

Toshiko, irrepressible, runs across the room embracing the dress. She drops on one knee at Jack's feet.

"Monsieur, je vous remercie mille fois de votre bonte..." She looks up, seeking his approval. "That is how Mama used to say, is it not?"

"Precisely."

"Let's try it on, shall we?" Alice asks and Toshiko skips off with Mrs Harkness.

"And that is how she charmed my English gold out of my English breeches pocket." Jack notices how keenly Ianto is observing him. "Your gaze is very direct, Mister Jones? D'you think me handsome?"

"No sir."

Jack laughs.

"I was too plain; I beg your pardon" Ianto is horrified by the blurting of a lie.

"What fault do you find with me? I have all my limbs and all my…"

"Mr Jack, it was a blunder. I ought to have replied that beauty is of little consequence…"

"Now you stick a knife under my ear?"

"You have other qualities, sir." Ianto cannot save this so simply chooses to go silent.

"Just so; other qualities... When I was your age I was a felling enough fellow. I might have been insulted then. You're blushing Mister Jones." Jack is amused once more.

"Not at all."

"And though you're not pretty any more than I am handsome, I must say it becomes you." Jack is laughing openly now "And now I see you're fascinated by the flowers on the rug."

Ianto senses his mockery.

"I'd like to draw you out. Come, speak to me." Jack asks.

"What about, sir?"

"The choice of subject is entirely yours." Jack settles back, intrigued as he sees Ianto consider.

"How can I introduce a subject when I don't know what'll interest you?" Ianto splutters.

Jack raises a hand "The fact is, Mister Jones, I don't wish to treat you like an inferior."

"Yet you'd command me to speak?" Ianto folds his arms and looks at Jack in a way that is alarming.

"Well I probably have a right to be a little abrupt and exacting on the grounds of my superiority in age. There must be ten years between us and a century's advance in experience." Jack replies calmly.

"I don't think you have a right to command me just because you're older." Ianto scoffs "Your claim to superiority depends on the use you've made of your time and experience."

"I've made indifferent use of both. And this is why I sit, galled by my own thoughts – and order you to divert me. Are you very hurt by my tone of command?" Jack grins as he enjoys genuine banter.

Ianto smiles. "There are few masters who'd trouble to enquire whether their paid subordinates were hurt by their commands."

"Oh yes... paid subordinate; I'd forgotten the salary. Well on that mercenary ground, will you consent to speak with me as my equal - without thinking that the request arises from insolence?" Jack asks jauntily.

"insolence, sir. One, I rather like. The other, nothing free born should ever submit to – even for a salary." Ianto retorts.

Jack waves a hand "Humbug. Most free-born things would submit to anything for a salary. But I mentally shake hands with you for your answer. Not three in three thousand school Handlers would have answered me as you've just done."

"You've clearly not spent much time in the company of school Handlers. I'm the same plain kind of bird as all the rest, with my couple of accomplishments and my common tale of woe." Ianto is still assessing the man, he seems … gentler than he had thought.

"I envy you."

"How?" Ianto is surprised.

"Your openness, your clear conscience, your unpolluted mind." Jack smiles "If I were eighteen I think we truly would be equals. Nature meant me to be a good man, one of the better kind and as you see, I am not so."

"Are you a villain then, sir?" Ianto's eyes twinkle.

"I'm a trite commonplace sinner, hackneyed in all the dissipations that the rich and worthless try to put on life." Jack gives a sad face as he sighs "When I was your age, fate dealt me a blow. I was - cursed with a burden to carry through life. I lacked the wisdom to remain cool and I turned desperate. Dread remorse, Mister Jones. It is the poison of life."

Jack takes in his open, compassionate face. "And since happiness is denied me, I've a right to get pleasure in its stead. And I will get it, cost what it may."

"Then you'll degenerate still more."

"Are you preaching to me?" Jack is now struggling with mirth at the young man's dower attitude.

"I'm reminding you of your own words; remorse is the poison of life." Ianto snorts back.

"But, Mister Jones, if the pleasure I was seeking was sweet and fresh; if it was an inspiration; if it wore the robes of an angel of light... what then?" Jack asks.

"I don't know. To speak truth, I don't understand you at all." Ianto frowns.

Jack lets his head fall back "My heart has long been a charnel house. Perhaps it'll transform into a shrine."

Ianto looks for an out "Sir, I find the conversation has got out of my depth."

"You're afraid of me because I talk like a sphinx." Jack seems saddened with this, even as he knew he would confuse the young man, like he did everyone after a while.

"I'm not afraid."

"Yes you are."

Ianto shrugs "I've simply no wish to talk nonsense."

"If you did it would be in such a grave, quiet manner that I would mistake it for sense. Do you never laugh, Mister Jones?" This question cuts Ianto to the quick. Jack continues as he does not see the momentary flicker of pain across Ianto's face "Only rarely, perhaps. But you're not naturally austere, any more than I'm naturally vicious. I can see in you the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive. Were it but free, it would soar. Cloud high."

Ianto opens his mouth to speak - but he cannot.

.

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.

Ianto is playing battledore and shuttlecock with Toshiko. His playing is full of energy, very free. His cheeks looks almost rosy. It is spring.

"Just as it turns to come down - that's when you hit it."

Toshiko serves. The game continues apace. Jack wanders out of the open double doors of the library. He watches.

Something lands at his feet. A rook's feather. He looks up at the battlements. A shape disappears, too fast to see. Jack's features cloud over with an expression of shame and detestation. He stands in a terrible inner conflict.

Ianto notices him - he misses his shot. He calls out "Mademoiselle has got to rest."

"Because I start to win!"

"Have mercy, Toshiko. Play with Pilot for a while."

Jack is leaning over the balustrade, his head bowed.

"Is our game disturbing you, sir?"

He looks up. A hard and cynical expression has mastered his countenance, something resolute. Ianto is taken aback.

"On the contrary. I like your game.I like this cold, hard day. I like Torchwood." Jack picks up the black feather. He starts to walk across the grounds at a fast pace. Ianto follows. "I've been arranging a point with my destiny, Mister Jones. My destiny stood up there by that chimney, like one of the hags who appeared to Macbeth. 'You like Torchwood?' She said. 'Like it if you dare'. Well, I dare. It's felt like a plague house for years"

He turns, the whole house now in his sights. He shouts "But Torchwood is my home and I shall like it!"

Toshiko is running after them. "Ianto - Il faut jouer …"

Jack snaps at her with shocking ferocity. "Get back! Keep at a distance child, or go in!"

Toshiko's face crumples into tears. Jack sees Ianto's shock at his outburst. He walks away.

Ianto isn't sure whether he has been dismissed or not. Toshiko has run back to Pilot. Ianto watches her. He suddenly finds Jack is back at his side. He walks him along. "She's the daughter of an opera dancer, Celine Sato. Celine was a beauty and she professed to love me. Her ardour was so great that, ugly as I am, I believed myself her idol. So I installed in her in a hotel, gave her servants, gowns cashmeres, diamonds - in short, I was an idiot."

"To fall in love, sir?"

"You've never felt love, have you Mister Jones? Your soul still sleeps." Jack is not sure if he should be sad or pleased at learning this.

"Does it?"

Jack smiles softly as he takes Ianto's hand "You're still floating gently in the stream of life, unaware of the rocks ahead waiting to dash you to pieces."

"Were you dashed to pieces, Mr Jack?"

"Not by Celine. How can one ever truly love a woman one has paid for?" Jack pauses, the grip on Ianto's elbow increasing as Jack leans in so Toshiko cannot hear "It ended when I visited her unexpectedly one night and caught her with her handsome, charmless lover. I overheard her waxing lyrical on all my defects - she was mercenary, heartless, senseless. The whole intoxication fell away like a dream. I left her money to support the little Japanese/French flowerlet over there, whom she swore blind was mine. Her mother was a pretty Japanese doll raised in France and that little weed was birthed there … I see no proof of my grim paternity in her features; I think Pilot is more like me than she."

"But you took her on?"

Toshiko is curled up, seeking comfort from the dog.

"Some years later, I heard that Celine had abandoned the brat, disappeared to Italy and left it destitute. So I lifted it from the mud and slime of Paris and brought it here, to grow up clean in the wholesome soil of an English country garden. My one good work in a sea of countless sins." Jack turns to look at Ianto who is looking at Toshiko full of compassion " You listen, Mister Jones, as if it was the most usual thing in the world for a man like me to tell stories of his opera-mistresses to an inexperienced boy like you. Toshiko?"

Toshiko looks up. Jack speaks graciously. "Forgive me; for keeping Mister Jones from your game for so long."

Toshiko is immensely gratified by his apology.


	9. fire and ice

_Ianto, aged ten, is walking along the long gallery. He opens a door and finds himself in the Red Room._

_He stares into the mirror, searching the pale face of his reflection, as if trying to find an answer. A murmur seems to come down the gaping chimney; a woman's deep sigh._

_Ianto's throat tightens with fear. Something moves in the shadows behind him._

_He scans them, his eyes full of terror. Ianto knows beyond all doubt that something is there. He hears a low laugh. It seems to be right next to him. He tries to scream -_

**.**

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Ianto wakes. His curtains are open; moonlight spilling in. He hears it again; the laugh from his dream, right outside his door - low and deep.

"Who's there?"

Footsteps run away. Ianto springs out of bed and pulls the door open. A door shuts at the end of the corridor.

There is a single candle burning in its holder on the rush matting, flickering in the draft. Ianto picks it up. He notices something else - a curling wreath of grey smoke. He follows its trail through the pitch darkness. It is coming thickly from a half-open door at the front of the house - Jack's.

Ianto rushes in. Jack's bed is on fire; the hangings, the curtains, all are alight. The flames are leaping. Jack is asleep. He shakes him. "Wake up! Wake up! Sir!"

Jack only stirs. The smoke has stupefied him. Ianto pulls the burning sheets off - then stops; he is naked. He takes his basin and douses the bed - soaking him. "Who's there?"

"It is I, Ianto Jones, sir." Ianto throws water on the curtains. He pulls the soggy fabric from its rail and smothers the burning couch. When all the flames are out, he rushes to the windows and opens them. Smoke billows out. He stands in the moonlight, coughing.

Jack is sitting up, staring at him. "What in the name of all the elves in Christendom have you done with me?"

"For heaven's sake get up. Somebody has plotted something; you must find out who. I'll light the lamp …" Ianto reaches for the matches.

"Light the lamp at your peril." Jack is springing out of bed. Ianto turns away, mortified - having caught sight of his silhouetted shape.

"I heard a laugh outside my door loud enough to wake me. I opened it. Someone was running towards the third floor." Jack is putting on a dressing gown, lighting the lamp as Ianto continues to speak "And a candle was left burning in the middle of the floor. Shall I fetch Mrs Harkness, sir?"

What the hell can she do?"

"Then I'll wake John and Martha."

"Not at all. Stay here. You're shivering." Jack gets his coat and puts it round him. "I have to go to the third floor. Don't make a sound. Sit there. I shan't be long."

He goes. Ianto looks at his ruined chamber; The blackened drapes on the four poster bed, the fireplace, the huge wardrobe. It is not unlike the red room.

Half an hour later. First light. Ianto is in an armchair. He has snuggled up in the coat. He takes in a breath, smelling its owner. He nuzzles his head against it. He closes his eyes, running his fingers down the lining. He looks up. Jack is watching him. His expression is peculiar. He holds the coat closely around him.

"Did you see anything when you opened your chamber door?"

"Only the candle on the ground." Ianto answers.

"But you heard a laugh?"

"Yes."

"Have you heard that laugh before?" he seems … almost frantic.

"There's a woman who sews here; Grace Poole - She laughs in that way, I think." Ianto says as he remembers being told it was her by Alice.

"Just so. Grace Poole - you have guessed it. Well, you're no talking fool; please say nothing about this." Jack asks gently.

"BUT"

"I will account for this state of affairs. Go back to your room and say nothing." Jack cuts him off.

"Yes, sir." Ianto takes off his coat "Good-night."

"Is that how you're going to leave me?" Jack is aghast.

"You said I should go."

Jack approaches him "Ianto, fire is a horrible death. You have saved my life. Don't walk past me as if we were strangers."

"What am I to do then, sir?"

"At least... shake hands." Jack holds out his hand. Ianto takes it. They shake. Jack wraps Ianto's hand in both of his. "I have a pleasure in owing you my life."

"There is no debt." Ianto assures him.

"I knew you would do me good in some way. I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you. Their expression did not - did not strike delight into my very inmost being so, for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies... You." Jack is drawing him slowly closer. Ianto, disconcerted, is trying to resist.

"Good night then, sir."

"So you will leave me?" Jack teases, still holding Ianto's' hand to stop him from fleeing.

"I'm cold." Ianto whispers.

"Go." At last, he relaxes his grip. Ianto backs away.

He goes.

Frozen to the bone.

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Ianto is keeling on the windowsill, looking out at the rising sun. He is lit by its glowing rays; inspired. It's a rare feeling that prompts his mood, as new and unfolding as the day itself - happiness.

**.**

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**.**

Hesitating outside Jack's bedroom door, Ianto looks in to see Leah and Martha cleaning the soot from the woodwork and windowpanes. To his amazement, Grace Poole is there, calmly sewing rings to new curtains.

"Good day to you, mister" Grace bobs.

"What's happened here?" Ianto asks with wide eyes, hoping it looks real.

"Only master reading in his bed last night" Grace sniffs "Fell asleep with his candle lit and the curtains got on fire. Managed to put it out with the water from his stand. Did you not hear anything, mister?"

"I did. I heard a strange laugh."

"It's hardly likely the master would laugh when he was in such danger." Grace grins "Perhaps you were dreaming."

"I was not."

Grace leans in "Then you didn't think of opening your door and looking out?"

Ianto is infuriated. he turns on his heel.

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Ianto walks in to the parlour for the evening meal. Their meal is laid out.

"Has Mr Jack not sent for us today?" Ianto asks.

"Why, he's gone away. Were you not aware? He left after breakfast." Alice supplies. Ianto takes this piece of news like an invisible shock as she continues to speak "He's gone to The Leas, Mr Eshton's place, about ten miles from here. I believe Gwen Cooper is there. She's a great favourite of his."

"Oh?"

"I saw her two years ago when Mr Jack had a party here. Oh, she was a beauty; I daresay the most elegant girl I've ever seen. So tall, with raven hair cascading down her back; I don't know how she'd had it done. She sang a duet with Mr Jack. They made a lovely harmony." Alice sighs as she remembers, a wistful smile "I was quite surprised he didn't make a proposal. Perhaps that is his intention now."

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Ianto is at the window of the nursery, brooding. Outside the rain is pouring. Toshiko, dressed in yellow frills, is concerned.

"Qu'avez vous mademoiselle?"

Without looking at her Ianto says gently "Nothing. Speak in English, please."

Ianto turns, expecting to see Toshiko.

Ianto finds himself in front of his class. They are looking at him expectantly. He looks back at them curiously. Eager faces, plain rural clothes. he has quite lost his place.

"Thank you, children. You may go."

Ianto is tidying up at the end of the day. The classroom is empty. His life is bare. It shows on his face. He looks up. Stan-Lee Rivers is watching him from the door. "Do you find the work too hard?"

Ianto immediately puts on a sprightly face and continues clearing up. "Not at all. I'm getting on very well."

"Do you feel the solitude an oppression?"

"I hardly have time to notice it." Ianto assures him as he struggles to let go of the ghosts in the room.

"Then perhaps your accommodations have disappointed you. They are in truth scanty enough …"

Ianto cuts him off "A few months ago I had nothing. I was wretched. Now I have a home and work; free and honest. I wonder at the goodness of God and at the generosity of my friends."

Stan-Lee approaches him; speaks intimately. "What you had left before I met you, I don't know. But I counsel you to resist firmly every temptation to look back."

"It's what I mean to do." Ianto nods.

"We can overcome every kind of human weakness. A year ago I was myself intensely miserable. I considered my life was so wretched that it must be changed - or I would die. After a season of darkness and struggling, light broke. I heard my call from God. Put your trust in him, Ianto. Let him lead you to your future."

"Thank you." Ianto say with what he hopes is the right contrite look.

Stan-Lee is turning to go.

"Why were you intensely miserable?" Ianto can't help but ask.

"A year ago, I was weak enough to fall in love." He sighs and Ianto moves involuntarily towards him. "Don't pity me; I have no compassion whatsoever for you. I regarded this love as a fever of the flesh; not a thing that would ever touch my soul. I scorned the weakness, fought hard against it - and won."

Ianto is incredulous. Stan-Lee is at his desk. It is covered in his drawings. He glances through them. "I could have listened to temptation, sunk down in the silken snare and known a feverish and delusive bliss. I could have squandered my future upon it."

"You could have been happy." Ianto whispers.

"A slave in a fool's paradise? I'd rather my life had purpose …" Stan-Lee suddenly snatches up a piece of paper. "Is this yours?"

"Yes."

His eyes, in an instant, seem to take in everything about him. He opens his mouth to speak - then checks himself.

"What's the matter?" Ianot asks with alarm.

"Nothing in the world." Stan-Lee replies. He folds the paper and takes it. "Good night."

He goes. Ianto looks after him, puzzled.


	10. visitors

Alice approaches Ianto with a letter in her hand.

"He's back in three days he says - heavens that's Thursday - and not alone. He gives directions to prepare all the best rooms. I'm to get more staff from the George Inn. The ladies will bring their maids, the gentlemen, valets. We must accommodate them all. Supplies to be got; linen, the mattresses …" Alice has worked herself up into quite a panic. "I'll get started. I'll go to the George. No, I'll tell Martha..."

Ianto can sense that the poor lady is overwhelmed. "May I assist you, Mrs Harkness?"

We see Alice approach Ianto in a rush of gratitude.

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Ianto wears a housekeeper's apron over his suit. He enters Jack's room with an armful of bed linen. It has been returned to its former glory. Toshiko is jumping up and down on the bed. Sophie is trying to coax her off it. Ianto gives Sophie the sheets.

Toshiko leaves the room with Ianto and skids all the way down the newly polished gallery in her stockinged feet. Ianto can't help smiling.

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Ianto sets down several bottles of wine on the kitchen table in order to dust them. The kitchen is a hive of activity -except for one lone figure sitting quietly in a chair by the fire, smoking a pipe; Grace Poole. Leah and one of the hired under cooks are talking about her.

"She gets good wages, I'd guess?"

"Wish I had as good; not one fifth what Mrs Poole receives." Another whispers.

Ianto affects not to listen, but is keenly interested.

"And she's laying it all by." Lea nodded "I shouldn't wonder if she's saved enough to keep her independent."

"She's a good hand, I daresay." The Under Cook commented.

Leah agrees "Not everyone could do it, that's for sure, not even for the money."

"No wonder the master relies on her" the Under Cook says with a sad shake of her head.

Leah notices Ianto's curious glance. She nudges the under cook. Ianto picks up the bottles and carries them away. As he passes he hears: "Doesn't he know?"

At that moment, Toshiko rushes in. "They're here! They're here!"

Alice tries to get her apron off. She becomes flustered. Ianto helps her. "Thank you."

Alice and Toshiko go. Ianto looks out of the window.

His attention is focussed on two equestrians who lead the arriving party; Jack and Gwen, the dark beauty at his side. She is laughing at something. The sun shines behind her. Ianto is dazzled.

He turns away.

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Ianto comes up the back stairs and on to the gallery, just as the ladies start to issue from their rooms. He stands back in a dark corner.

There is an approach of chatter; a subdued vivacity. A flurry of multicoloured silks, lace and velvets go by. They descend the staircase as noiselessly as a bright mist.

Ianto steps out. He walks right into the path of Gwen Cooper, who is dressed in white. They both startle.

"Excuse me, miss".

Gwen gives him a look of ice. Jack is at the top of the stairs.

"Good evening."

They both turn. Jack has seen Gwen, not Ianto. He offers her his arm, his gaze full of admiration. Ianto sinks back into the shadows. "May I?"

Gwen lays her gloved hand on Jack's arm, barely touching him. They glide away.

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Toshiko and Ianto sit on the stairs, listening to Gwen and Jack sing. Their voices thrill. Ianto is trying not to feel. But when Jack hits an exceptionally beautiful note, he involuntarily closes his eyes.

Toshiko leans into Ianto. She is crying. "What is it, darling?"

"She sings like Mama."

Ianto, full of compassion, takes Toshiko back to her room.

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Alice enters the school room the next day in a great hurry. "Tonight. He wants you both in the drawing room after dinner."

Toshiko leaps up, delighted. Ianto is crestfallen. "Not me, surely."

"It's his particular wish."

"He was being polite." Ianto is sure of it.

"I'm instructed to tell you that if you resist, he'll come up and get you himself. You needn't stay long. Just let him see you and then slip away. Don't worry; no one'll look at you." Alice begs.

**.**

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Ianto is delivering Toshiko into the centre of the company. "May I present Miss Toshiko Sato?"

"Bon jour, mesdames, monsieurs."

Ianto finds it hard to get a proper impression of the guests, as he cannot raise his eyes to look at them.

Toshiko makes a dainty curtsey - pink frock, hair in ringlets, little lace gloves. In the midst of the crowd is Gwen. "Why, what a little pet."

An older woman, mutton dressed as lamb asks "Is this your ward, Mr Jack?"

"Yes."

An English rose namesdLouise; nineteen "What a lovely child."

Toshiko blissfully disappears into a moving sea of dresses. Only one guest is still looking in Ianto's direction; Gwen. Her lip curls in distaste.

Ianto backs into a nearby window seat; always his place of refuge. He closes his eyes. A great Atlantic wave hits the sash window behind him, drenching it with foam and brine.

When he opens his eyes, Jack is in his line of vision, standing out in a crowd of unmanly men. He senses his gaze; glances at him. Ianto looks down, pulling his work on to his lap; a beaded purse for Toshiko. he does not lift his eyes from the beads, fully feeling the humiliation of his class - and of his love. Gwen sidles up to Jack. "I thought you weren't fond of children?"

"You're right; I'm not."

"Then what induced you to take charge of that little doll?"

Jack turns away from Ianto. "She was left on my hands."

"Why don't you send her to school?" Gwen demands openly.

"She has a Handler." Jack replies with confusion.

Ianto glances up; sees Jack's back to him, throws his eyes down, once more.

Gwen huffs "You should hear mamma on the chapter of Handlers. I had half a dozen in my day – all detestable, ridiculous incubi - were they not, mamma?"

"Did you speak, my lily flower?"

"I said Handlers."

The reaction is instant. "Oh, don't mention them; the very word makes me nervous! I've suffered a martyrdom from their incompetence and caprice. I thank heaven we're now done with them. I have just one word to say of the whole tribe; nuisance."

Ianto's fingers sew. Only the briefest flash of his eyes towards the company shows his mortification. Gwen has started playing a brilliant prelude on the piano.

"We shall have music - and new subject, if you please. Signor Eduardo, what shall it be?" Gwen plays a game, fluttering her eyelashes as Jack grins.

"Donna Bianca, I give you beauty." He says with the same silly voice.

"Beauty? Why there's nothing new to be said. I give you back male beauty. Mamma, what's your idea of male beauty?" Gwen demands.

"My son, of course." Lady Cooper smiles.

"Hear hear." Lord Cooper booms.

"Oh, Ted's quite typical of the young men of today. They're so absorbed in the pursuit of fashion that they've forgotten how to be men at all." Gwen pouts, her fingers still dancing.

"I say …" the lord huffs.

"A woman who neglects herself is a blot on humanity. But a man should pay no heed to his looks" Gwen says glancing at Jack "A man should possess only strength and valour. He could be a gentleman or a highwayman. His beauty lies in his power."

"So a Levantine pirate would do for you?" Jack asks with raised eyebrows.

"As long as he resembled you." Gwen says quietly.

Jack laughs loudly. Ianto is heading for the door.

"I am serious." Gwen laughs as well "To my mind, a man is nothing without a spice of the devil in him."

Ianto closes the door on Gwen. He breathes in fresh air, nauseous. Gwen's splendid prelude drifts out.

Jack comes into the hall from the other door. Ianto instantly bends down and pretends to be tying his shoe.

"Why did you leave the room?" Jack demands.

"I am tired, sir."

"Why didn't you come and speak to me?" Jack seems genuinely annoyed "I haven't seen you for weeks. It would have been normal and polite to wish me good evening."

"You seemed engaged, sir."

Jack leans against the wall, "What have you been doing while I've been gone?"

"Teaching Toshiko."

"You look pale."

"I am well." Ianto assures him.

"You're depressed; your eyes are shining with tears. What's the meaning of this?" Jack steps closer.

Ianto catches sight of Alice, who is watching them with an expression of unease. Jack glares at her. "A gentleman has arrived to see you, sir."

"Who?"

"He says he's travelled a long way, from Spanish Town, Jamaica …"

Jack seems winded. She continues "And indeed I think he must have come from some hot country because he won't take off his coat."

"Spanish Town..." Jack repeats softly.

"Mr John Hart. He says you're old friends. I've put him in the morning room."

Jack cannot speak.


	11. ghosts can harm?

"Have I done wrong?" Alice asks.

"Not at all. Please tell him I'll see him directly."

Alice goes.

Jack looks at Ianto "Oh Ianto - Ianto. This is a blow."

"Can I help you sir?"

In the drawing room, Gwen's prelude finishes to enthusiastic applause. Jack has Ianto's hand. "Ianto, if all those people came and spat at me, what would you do?"

"Turn them out of the room sir, if I could." Ianto bristles at the very thought.

Jack whispers "And if they cast you out for adhering to me?"

"I should care nothing about it."

"You'd dare censure for my sake?" Jack is so close now.

Ianto is frightened of his passion. "For the sake of any friend who deserved it."

Jack lets his hand go. He steps back. He goes to the morning room. Ianto peers through the door, worrying how his last words have given offence.

He sees a man rising to meet Jack; handsome but gaunt and painfully thin. His smile doesn't reach his eyes – as if his soul is not quite his own.

"Harkness..."

"John. How the devil are you?"

They embrace, Jack doing a fine impression of delight

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.

Ianto is standing on the pedestal of infamy, ten years old. Kai Burns is walking towards him with something in her arms. The rising sun is all around him.

"He is yours."

Ianto looks down at the bundle. In it, is a newborn boy. Ianto looks up to ask Kai for help. But Kai has gone. Ianto alone with his burden, teeters on the stool. The baby starts to cry. Ianto panics.

The crying becomes deafening, terrifying. It is not a baby's cry but a human scream.

**.**

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**.**

Ianto wakes, hearing a savage, sharp shriek of such power and intensity it seems to tear the night in two.

Overhead, the sounds of a struggle begin - a deadly one. Ianto hears footsteps rush past his door. He starts to pull on his clothes. He hears a man's voice from above Hart screaming "Help! Jack, for God's sake come!"

A great stamp on the floor above; something falls with a thud; silence. Ianto grabs his candle and leaves his room.

The guests likewise are all issuing from their rooms; some with candles, some stumbling into the dark. The gallery is filling with terrified ladies and shocked gentlemen. Their shadows dance grotesquely on the walls.

"Oh what is it?" Lady Cooper cries.

"Who is hurt?" Gwen is more demanding.

Lord Cooper is also demanding "Where the devil is Jack?"

Jack comes forth from the door at the end of the gallery, holding a candelabra. "I'm here, be composed."

Gwen flies towards him like a banshee. "What awful event has taken place?"

She embraces him. Jack patiently removes her.

"A servant has had a nightmare, that's all. She's an excitable, nervous person and has taken a fit with fright." Jack explains. Ianto, the only person behind Jack, sees by the light of his candle that his dressing gown is trailing blood. Jack continues to speak calmly "Now I must see you back into your rooms because until the house is settled, she can't be properly looked after."

"Is there anything I might do?" Gwen offers with a look of total devotion.

"Miss Cooper, ladies, please return to your nests like the doves that you are. You'll take cold for certain if you stay in this cold."

The candles flicker and fade as the guests make their way back to their rooms. Jack sees Ianto. "Come this way. Make no noise."

Ianto is led to the third floor. Jack stops by a low door. He puts a key in the lock. "Be steady. I need you."

He unlocks it. A room hung with tapestries; a four poster bed with its curtains half drawn. One part of the tapestry is hooked up over a hidden door - which lies open to an inner chamber. A dull, sickly light shines out.

"Wait." Jack demands. He goes to the inner chamber. A grim laugh greets him. "Thank you, Mrs Poole."

He locks the door. Ianto shudders. He goes to the bed.

"Here. Bring the candle."

Ianto obeys. John Hart is lying, one arm and all the linen soaked in blood. Ianto controls his reaction and makes himself useful. Jack is cleaning the wound.

"Am I dying?" Hart whimpers.

"No." Jack replies without looking up.

"She bit me - while the knife was in - Bit me"

"It was folly to attempt the interview tonight and alone." Jack scolds.

"I…" Hart gasps "… thought I might have done some good."

Jack snarls "It makes me impatient to hear you."

"She sucked the blood. Said she'd drain me - like a vampire" Hart is in shock.

"Think of her as dead" Jack demands "dead and buried. Say nothing!"

Hart is silenced. Jack puts the bloody sponge into Ianto's hand. "I am going for a doctor. I must leave you here with him. Sponge the blood away when it returns. Give him water if he wants it. Do not speak to him for any reason. And John - on pain of death - do not speak to Ianto!"

Jack takes the candelabra. He is gone. Hart is staring at Ianto. There is something about the pupils in his eyes that he finds deadly, chilling.

He dips the sponge in the bloody water and wipes away the trickling gore.

He hears a low moan. he looks over at the door to the inner chamber, aching to know the mystery behind it. Hart makes him start by taking his wrist. He is trying to say something. Ianto puts a finger to his lips. He is begging him not to speak.

.

.

.

.

Jack and Dr Carter are carrying Hart down the stairs.

"I only wish I could have got here sooner. He'd not have bled so much." The Doctor says softly.

"Ianto, make sure the way is clear." Jack orders.

Ianto looks out on to the gallery. He is pale, drawn.

A carriage waits. Jack lifts Hart in to Dr Carter. Ianto hands in Hart's coat. Ianto stands back.

"I'll ride over tomorrow to see how you do. Goodbye, John."

John reaches out to seize Jack's wrist "Harkness - Let her be treated as tenderly as may be"

"I do my best and have done it and will do it!"

The carriage goes. Ianto prepares to go inside but Jack walks him towards the orchard. "Come, Ianto. That house is a dungeon, don't you feel it?"

"It seems to me a splendid mansion, sir."

"It is slime and cobwebs."

The orchard is a different world; the dawn light illuminating dewy trees. Jack is silent. Ianto is trying to fathom him. "Will Grace Poole stay here now?"

Jack seems confused by the question "yes, don't trouble your head about her."

"But sir…"

"Grace Poole is not the danger." He walks off, pulling the heads off flowers as he passes. "You've noticed my tender feelings for Miss Cooper?"

"Yes sir."

"Keep vigil with me again, the night before I marry. For now you've met my lovely one and you know her. She's a rare one, isn't she?" Jack snorts.

"Yes sir."

"A strapper, a real strapper; big and buxom..." Jack seems …. Angry. He throws a cankered rose across the orchard.

Ianto manages to articulate his anxiety. "I'd do anything for you sir, anything that was right."

Jack gently sighs "And if I ever bid you do what was wrong, you'd turn to me, quiet and pale and say 'I cannot do it.' And you'd be as immutable as a fixed star."

Jack, gazing at him, seems to have decided something. He turns a corner and is gone. Ianto is left alone.

We hear the sound of a blow.

.

.

.

.

_The brutal face of John Reid, aged fourteen, triumphant after hitting Ianto._

" _That's for the look you had on your face."_

.

.

.

.

Ianto enters as Jack helps Gwen to line up a shot. He is leaning intimately over her. She coyly permits him.

"Excuse me, sir."

"Ianto has ruined Gwen's shot."

"Does that creeping creature want you?" she sneers.

.

.

.

.

Jack has followed Ianto out of the billiard room.

"If you please, I want leave of absence for a week or two."

"What to do?"

Ianto shows him the letter. "This is from my old nurse, Bessie. She says my cousin John Reid is dead. He ruined himself and has committed suicide. The news has so shocked his mother, my Aunt, that it's brought on a stroke."

"What good can you do her?"

Ianto shrugs "She's been asking for me. I parted from her very badly and I can't neglect her wishes now."

"Promise me you won't stay long."

"Sir, it seems you are soon to be married."

"What of it?" Jack frowns.

"Toshiko should go to school."

"To get her out of my bride's way who might otherwise trample her?" Jack guesses.

"And I must seek another situation." Ianto agrees "I intend to advertise."

"At your peril you advertise. Trust it to me. I'll find you a good situation in time." Jack seems annoyed and upset. He is on the point of returning to the billiard room.

"And sir?" Ianto feel wretched saying so "Forgive me but I have had no wages as yet."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Fifteen pounds."

Jack looks in his wallet. "Here's fifty."

"That's too much."

"Take your wages." Jack waves it at him.

"I cannot."

"Then I only have a ten."

"Now you owe me five." Ianto mutters as he accepts the money, their fingers brushing for a moment.

"Just so. Come back for it quickly. Meantime, I shall safeguard it in here." He taps the wallet, which is in his breast pocket. "Do you trust me to keep it, Ianto?"

"Not a whit, sir. You are not to be trusted at all."

Jack strides away, grinning.


	12. truth or dare

Bessie, now housekeeper, is moving forward to meet Ianto. "Bless you! - I knew you'd come."

They embrace.

"Bessie... I'm not too late? How is Mrs Reid?"

"She may linger yet a while." Bessie replies "She's spoken of you daily. At first we couldn't tell what she was saying but when her speech came clear we heard 'Ianto Jones, get Ianto Jones.' repeated."

"Shall I see her now?"

"I'll take you up directly. But look at you. What a lovely man you've become. Why you're almost pretty."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto takes his aunt's hand. Mrs Reid looks very near death. "Aunt Reid? It is Ianto Jones. You sent for me, and here I am."

Mrs Reid, with an effort, pulls her hand away from Ianto's. "No one knows the trouble I have with that child. Such a burden. Left on my hands. Speaking to me like a fiend. The fever at Torchwood One. He should have died!"

"Why do you hate him so?"

"His mother. Reid's sister – his beloved. When news came of her death he wept like a fool. Sent for the baby. Sickly thing – not strong like mine. But Reid loved it. Kept it by his bed. Made me vow to bring the creature up. Why did he not love mine?"

The words are a revelation to Ianto. Mrs Reid gazes at her. "Who are you?"

"I am Ianto Jones, Aunt."

"You. Is there no one in the room?"

Ianto motions Bessie to go.

"We are alone."

"I've twice done you wrong. I broke the vow I made to Reid…"

"Please, don't think of it"

"I am dying; I must get it out!" Mrs Reid indicates a box on her bedside table. "Open that box. Take out the letter. Read it."

Ianto obeys. He reads the letter aloud.

"Madam, will you have the goodness to send me the address of my nephew, Ianto Jones. I desire him to come to me at Madeira. Fortune has blessed my endeavours and as I am childless I wish to adopt him and bequeath him at my death whatever I may have to leave. Yours, James Jones, Madeira."

Ianto is stunned. "This is dated three years ago. Why did I never hear of it?"

"Because I wrote and told him you had died of typhus at Torchwood One school. You fury." She sobbed "You were born to be my torment. I'll never forget how you turned on me and raged. You called the names of the dead down upon me. I was afraid."

"Forgive me."

"You cursed me."

"I would have loved you if you'd let me."

"My life has been cursed."

"Please, let us be reconciled." Ianto pleads. Mrs Reid shrinks from Ianto's touch. Ianto wipes his tears. "Then love me or hate me as you will. You have my full and free forgiveness. Now ask for God's - and be at peace."

Mrs Reid's eyes close.

.

.

.

.

The morning sun is pouring in. Ianto goes to the bed. He puts his hand upon it, gently, as if thanking his uncle for all he did. He notices a picture on the wall. A miniature of a brown-haired woman with elfin eyes.

Ianto takes it off the wall. Bessie comes in. "My mother."

Bessie nods. A tear rolls down Ianto's face. he clasps the picture, looking round the room. "Why ever was I so afraid?"

.

.

.

.

A coach pulls up in the lane near Torchwood. Ianto gets out. We hear his voice on the wind as the letter he wrote is read out.

_My dear uncle, some years ago, my Aunt Reid mistakenly informed you that I had died._

Ianto is walking through the wooded glade where he first met Jack. All is green and verdant and bathed in sunset light. There seems to be life everywhere.

I am writing to tell you that I am very much alive and living at Torchwood Hall, where I am currently Handler to the ward of Mr Jack Edward Harkness …

"There you are." A voice cuts in and Ianto turns. Jack is sitting on the stile where they first met. For a moment, his every nerve is unstrung. "Just like one of your tricks to steal into your home along with the twilight. Where the hell have you been this last month?"

"I have been with my aunt sir, who is dead."

Jack laughs. "A true Jonesian reply. If I dared I'd touch you, to see if you were real..."

Ianto puts out his hand. Jack takes it. He helps Ianto over the stile. "Go home - stay your wandering feet at a friend's threshold."

Ianto lets go of his hand. "Thank you Mr Jack. I'm strangely glad to get back again to you. Wherever you are is my home."

Ianto, knowing he has said too much, turns and runs over The fields towards Torchwood.

.

.

**Alice's parlour - evening**

Ianto is on a low seat, Toshiko nestling close to her.

"We're expecting the announcement very soon."Alice is gushing happily "He went down to London only last week to buy her a new carriage."

"Then we must accept it. He'll Soon bring home his bride." Ianto tries not to show his despair.

Alice nods.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto is alone, drinking in the beauty of the evening - looking at the gardens as if he may never see them again. He turns a corner and sees Jack staring intently at something. His back is to him. He is about to tiptoe away.

"Come and look at this fellow, Ianto."

Ianto approaches, wondering how he has sensed his presence. Jack is looking at a huge moth. "Look at his wings. He looks West Indian - I have never seen one like him, here. There; flown."

They watch the moth as it flies towards the house.

"Torchwood is a pleasant place in summer, isn't it?" Jack asks wistfully.

"I'll be sad to leave it."

"Yes, but it can't be helped. I soon hope to be a bridegroom." Jack nodded.

"Have you found me a new situation, sir?" Ianto asks, hating the whine in his voice.

"A situation, yes of course." Jack looks at him and then smiles "It's the least I can do for a faithful paid subordinate such as yourself. You're to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs Dionysus O'Gall of Bitternut Lodge, Connaught."

"Connaught?" Ianto tries not to gape at the thought.

"You'll like Ireland. They're such warm-hearted people, they say." Jack seems to be shaking something off, will not look at Ianto now.

"It is a long way away, sir."

"From what?"

"From here." Ianto replies, then adds softly "From you."

"We've been good friends, Ianto haven't we? But with the Irish sea between us you'd soon forget me." Jack tries to brush if off.

Ianto's great distress escapes into the open before he can school himself "I wish I could. I wish I'd never come here. I love Torchwood - I've lived a full life here. I've not been trampled on or petrified or buried with inferior minds. I've talked face to face with what I reverence, with what I delight in. I've known you Mr Jack …"

"Then why must you be torn from me?" Jack is suddenly intense, wanting to seize Ianto in the way his hands clench at his sides.

"Because of your bride."

"I have no bride."

"But you will have."

"Yes, I will."

"Then I must go."

"You must stay" Jack demands.

"Do you think I could stay to become nothing to you? Am I an automaton, a machine without feelings?" Ianto splutters, his arms flapping as he demands "Do you think that because I am poor, obscure, plain and little that I am soulless and heartless?"

"IANTO" Jack sighs.

Ianto continues to rave "I have as much soul as you and full as much heart. I'm not speaking to you through mortal flesh. It's my spirit that addresses your spirit as if we'd passed through the grave and stood at God's feet, equal – as we are."

Jack takes Ianto in his arms. "As we are."

Ianto struggles away from him.

"Let me go."

" **NO"**

"I'm a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you." Ianto snarls.

Jack releases him. Ianto stands in front of him.

"Then let your will decide your destiny. I offer you my hand, my heart and a share of all this." Jack grandly states. He gestures towards the house, the land. Ianto is stunned. "I ask you to pass through life at my side. Ianto, you are my equal and my likeness. It is you I intend to marry."

"Are you mocking me?"


	13. Ianto knows he's not mad

"Are you mocking me?"

"Do you doubt me?"

"Entirely." Ianto huffs, a strange almost laugh as he tries to step away but Jack has seized him.

"You have no faith in me?"

"Not a whit." Ianto snorts.

"You little sceptic." Jack chortles.

"Your bride is Miss Cooper …"

"What love have I for Miss Cooper? What love has she for me? I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was lost and got instant coldness. I wanted to make you jealous, to move you to love me. It's you - you strange, unearthly thing. I love you as my own flesh. You - poor and obscure as you are - please accept me as your husband."

Ianto begins to believe him. "Are you in earnest?

"I must have you for my own."

"You wish me to be your mate?" Ianto looks startled and Jack is afraid he might bolt.

"I swear it."

"You love me." Ianto says more as a statement than a question but Jack answers anyway.

"I do."

"Then sir, I will marry you."

They embrace.

Neither Ianto nor Jack moves. Darkness is almost complete. Still the intensity of the embrace is held.

"It will atone." Jack whispers "It will atone."

A sheet of lightning momentarily lights up the sky. Some moments later a distant rumble of thunder.

.

.

.

.

It is teeming with rain. Jack and Ianto run to the front entrance. He holds his jacket around Ianto. Lightning. They reach the dry hearth inside. Thunder. They are both euphoric, breathless, laughing.

"I must go" Ianto gasps.

Good night. Good night." Jack kisses him. They kiss again. Ianto will not let him go.

"Good night." As Ianto runs upstairs he sees Alice, deeply shocked.

.

.

.

.

Ianto wears a lilac shirt. Alice is very concerned.

"Have you accepted him?" she enquires gently.

"Yes."

"Well I never would have thought." Alice snorts.

Ianto is hurt. "Am I a monster? Is it so impossible that Mr Jack should love me?"

"No, I've long noticed that you were a sort of pet of his." Alice sounds cruel and Ianto takes a sharp breath as she speaks "But you're so young and so little acquainted with men. I don't want to grieve you child, but let me put you on your guard. Gentlemen in his position... Let's just say they're not accustomed to marry their Handlers. Until you are wed, distrust yourself as well as him. Please, keep him at a distance …"

Ianto has heard enough. He turns away. "Thank you."

.

.

.

Ianto, walking through the hall, finds himself in Jack's arms. he laughs as he raises him off the ground. "Is this my pale elf? This sunny faced boy with the radiant eyes?"

"It is I, Ianto Jones sir." Ianto chortles.

"Soon to be Ianto Harkness" Jack gushes.

"It can never be, sir." Ianto says with a serious frown "Human beings were not meant to enjoy complete happiness on this earth. It's too much like a fairy tale."

"Let the fairy tale begin."

**.**

**..**

**.**

**.**

Jack is rolling out reams of beautiful silks. Ianto gets more uncomfortable as he looks at them.

"This morning I wrote to my banker in London to send certain jewels. In a day or two I hope to pour them into your lap …"

"Oh, no sir"

"I will put the diamond chain on your watch myself" Jack assures him.

"I don't want jewels" Ianto declares.

"I'll dress you in these satins" Jack snorts.

"Then you won't know me. I'll not be Ianto Jones any longer but an ape in a harlequin's jacket. Put them away." Ianto pushes the silks away.

"Well for cool native impudence and pure innate pride, you haven't your equal." Jack is amused.

"I'm naturally proud. And hard and flinty. You ought to know what sort of bargain you've made while you've still got time to rescind it. I want only one thing from you, Mr Jack." Ianto is flouncy now and Jack revels in his silliness.

"And what's that?"

"Your regard." Ianto puts his arm through Jack's.

Jack smiles.

"It's your time now, little tyrant but it'll soon be mine and when I have seized you, to have and to hold, I'll attach you to a chain, like this..." Jack flicks his watch into the air.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**ALICE'S PARLOUR.**

A summer gale. The moan of the wind sounds almost human. The light is sickly, nightmarish.

A great box sits on the table, which Ianto is opening.

Toshiko, Sophie and Mrs Harkness are all looking on. Ianto pulls out a pearl coloured wedding suit. He is dismayed at its opulence.

he holds it up to himself. Toshiko starts to play with the great veil. She wraps it round herself. She becomes caught in it, tangled, distressed.

"Toshiko?"

Ianto wakes. There is a candle alight at the end of his bed. His eyes focus. His wardrobe is open. Ianto is unnerved. "Toshiko, is that you?"

A form emerges, a woman, tall and gaunt, with thick, black hair hanging down her back. She is dressed in a nightgown - like a shroud. Over her head, she wears Ianto's bridal veil; a phantom bride.

Ianto is paralysed with terror.

The form takes the veil and slowly tears it in half; bruised arms, dirt, predatory nails, neglect. The last thing to be revealed is the woman's face, pale and ghastly. Her eyes are glittering with hatred.

The figure takes the candle and bends down to Ianto. Her intention looks deadly. Ianto's breath catches. He cannot breathe.

The figure moves closer, then blows out the candle.

Darkness.

.

.

.

.

Ianto wakes, lying half out of the bed. The veil is over him. He flings it away from his face. Ianto sits, his terror dawning. His breath comes in great dry sobs. He is shocked to find himself still alive.

.

.

.

**EVENING. - BY THE GATES**

Ianto is waiting, pale with anxiety. A man on horseback approaches, a great dog at his side; Jack. He is grinning.

He pulls Ianto up on the horse in front of him. He curls into his arms, desperate for his comfort and his strength. Jack senses something is wrong. He slows the horse. "What is it? "

"I'm afraid."

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.

.

**IANTO'S BEDROOM.**

Jack holds the torn veil in his hands. Such an old custom for the male entering a household to wear a veil like a bride. Total Iantoism. It is totally ruined He is aghast.

"Ianto…" He cannot think what to say. "this is the only explanation. It must have been half-dream, half-reality. A woman did enter your room last night and that woman was - must have been - Grace Poole …"

"It was not Grace Poole."

Jack keeps talking over him. "You know how strange she is. What did she do to me? To Hart? In a state between sleeping and waking …"

"I was not asleep."

"You noticed her entrance and her actions but you've ascribed to her an appearance different from her own. That was your nightmare …"

"I know what I saw."

Jack pauses and tries another tack "I see you'd ask why I keep such a woman in my house. When we've been married a year and a day, I promise I'll tell you. Are you satisfied Ianto? Do you accept my solution?"

Ianto clearly doesn't. Jack takes him in his arms.

"Dear God. It was only the veil..."


	14. the bottom falls out

**TOSHIKO'S ROOM.**

Ianto is in an unadorned pearl wedding Suit.

"monsieur" "Toshiko gives him a small bouquet. Ianto hugs her, very moved - as if he is leaving his childhood behind. he turns to go.

"Please, you must look" Sophie begs.

Ianto gazes stupefied at the stranger in the mirror.

.

.

.

Jack is waiting at the bottom of the stairs for Ianto. Ianto slows when he sees him. he finds he cannot speak. Neither can Jack.

Alice is by the door. Ianto can't find words for her.

"Come." Jack grips his hand. They quit the house.

Jack, grimly resolute, is striding at a pace Ianto can hardly follow. His polished shoes are muddy. He is becoming breathless. A rook flies over their heads, cawing.

Jack is striding purposefully towards a small church of ancient design. Ianto stumbles. Jack is contrite. Ianto tries to collect himself. He looks up to the sky. The rook wheels around the spire. He takes Jack's hand.

At the altar, Ianto glances at Jack. He is looking straight ahead at the clergyman, Wood.

"I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it."

There is not a sound. Jack still doesn't look at Ianto.

The clergyman prepares the rings. Jack Edward Harkness, do you take …"

A commotion at the back of the church. Two men rapidly enter. One of them Briggs, hurries up the aisle. "The marriage cannot go on. I declare the existence of an impediment."

Jack moves, shaken. "Proceed."

"The ceremony is quite broken off. An insuperable impediment to this marriage exists." Briggs insists.

"Proceed." Jack insists.

"Mr Jack has a wife now living." Briggs yells.

Wood is utterly dismayed.

"Where is your proof?" Jack roars with anger.

Briggs starts to read out a document. "I affirm and can prove that Jack Edward Harkness was fifteen years ago married to my sister, Bertha Antoinetta Hart at St James church, Spanish Town, Jamaica."

Ianto looks at Jack. Ianto forces him to look at him. He denies nothing; defies everything.

Brigs continues to read "The record of the marriage will be found in the register of that church - a copy of it is now in my possession. Signed, John Hart."

Jack turns to Briggs. "That does not prove that my wife is still living."

"She was living two months ago."

"How do you know?" Jack snorts.

"I have a witness to the fact." Briggs sneers back.

"Produce him or go to hell." Jack demands with a sweep of his arm.

The figure by the door steps out of the shadows. It is John Hart. Jack flies down the aisle, a groan of rage escapes him. He lifts his arm. John flinches back "Good God …"

"Sir, you are in a sacred place" Wood reminds him as Jack hesitates.

Hart flinches away. Jack swallows his rage. "What have you to say?"

"She is at Torchwood Hall." John says defiantly "I saw her there in April. I'm her brother."

A grim smile contorts Jack's lips. He turns towards Ianto. He remains where he was abandoned - at the altar - tiny, under the vaulted arch. The bouquet falls from his hand. Jack walks to him "This boy knew nothing. He thought all was fair and legal. He never dreamt he was going to be entrapped into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch."

A tiny breath is the only noise Ianto utters. Jack pulls him from the altar to his side. "Come, Ianto, come all of you and meet Mrs Poole's charming patient. Come and meet my wife."

The sun outside is blinding. Ianto closes his eyes.

.

.

.

.

Jack enters the hallway pulling Ianto after him, his hand still in his iron grip. Wood, Hart and Briggs follow.

Alice, Toshiko, Sophie, Martha and Leah are waiting. Toshiko runs forward. Jack stops her in her tracks. "Get back! Do not come near! Go, all of you - keep your congratulations - they come fifteen years too late!"

Toshiko has crumpled into frightened tears. Alice has her hand over her mouth, pale with shock. Ianto meets her eye as Jack pulls him up the stairs. A revelation.

The tapestried room. Jack glances at Hart. He unlocks the inner door with one hand; the other won't let go of Ianto. Grace Poole sits by a strongly guarded fire, stirring something in a pot.

Jack leads Ianto and the other men into the room. There is no window, no furniture except for Grace's chair; only a mattress on the floor.

Grace pleads "Sir, you can't be bringing folk in here. It's madness."

Bertha Antoinetta Hart stands, amazed at the sight of her visitors. She wears a white shift. There are black rook feathers twined in her hair; her only ornament.

"This clothed hyena is my wife."

Bertha's pose is dignified, her expression grows triumphant. She approaches Jack - her eyes locked with Ianto's. Ianto gazes: fear, disgust, compassion.

"I was duped into marriage with this lunatic fifteen years ago." Jack explains.

Briggs and Wood are deeply repelled. Wood spits "Let us go. We have seen enough."

Bertha puts her arm through Jack's; lays her head on his shoulder; smiles at Ianto, magnanimous in her victory.

"My own demon, Bertha." Jack sighs.

With shocking speed and strength Bertha lays her nails into Jack's cheek. He struggles with her.

Grace assists Jack. They do not hit; they subdue. Bertha's attack is effectively contained. They have her on Her knees, her arms behind her.

Bertha lifts her head and screams. If a scream could express the agony of a whole soul then this would. Ianto turns on his heels. He stumbles, finds the door, exits.

Ianto is coming down the stairs. Briggs is at his side. "You, sir, are clearly not to blame. Your uncle will be glad to hear it."

Ianto looks at Briggs, only dimly comprehending him.

"You wrote to your uncle, did you not? To inform him you were going to marry Mr Jack? Mr Hart was staying with him when your letter came." Briggs gets only a blank look of puzzlement from Ianto. "Mr John Jones has been the Madeira correspondent of the Hart trading house for some years. You can imagine his distress when Hart revealed the real state of matters."

Ianto starts walking towards the sanctuary of his room.

Briggs continues to speak as he follows "He would have come himself but I'm sad to tell you that his health is in mortal decline. He implored Mr Hart to prevent this false marriage and referred him to me for assistance. I only hope that he survives long enough to hear that you are safe."

Ianto opens his door. He turns to Briggs.

"Thank you."

He shuts the door on Briggs and on the world.

.

.

.

.

Ianto sits on his bed. He mechanically starts taking off the blond square he has worn as a veil.

Ianto, standing in stillness with the pearl suit crumpled around his feet.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto has taken a black stuffy suit off its hangar. He slowly puts his arms around it, as if it is his old self.

He holds it, his eyes staring at nothing.

.

.

.

.

Ianto in his underclothes, sitting down on the bed. He closes his eyes.

.

.

..

Ianto lies curled up on a rock at the bottom of a dried-up river bed. All of nature is suspended in stillness.

Far away, we hear the sound of a flood loosened in the remote mountains. We hear the sound of the torrent approach.

Ianto doesn't move. He has no will to flee. The sound of rushing water pounds in his ears. He lies, waiting to be dashed away. We see the flood approach and hit.

A dazzling whiteness of water and foam.

.

.

.

.

Ianto's room is entirely unchanged except for the fact that it is full of river water from floor to ceiling. His bedding, furniture and belongings all sit in the room as normal - underwater.

The light shines murkily in through the window to reveal Ianto floating, suspended. His garments trail out. He is alive. But he is drowned.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The moon has risen. Ianto is lying in an exhausted doze on the bed. He wakes; sits up. He is faint. He recovers himself. He knows what he must do.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto, dressed in black in the silver light, putting his brush, comb and pocket watch in a bag. He looks in his purse. He has some coins.

Ianto unbolts his door, takes a step out of his room, and stumbles into Jack's arms. He has been keeping guard.

"Ianto…" His cheek has been cut by Bertha's nails. "Five minutes more of that death-like hush and I'd have forced the lock."

He examines Ianto's face. He is desperate. "No tears. Your heart has been weeping blood. Forgive me."

Jack buries his head in Ianto's arms. he automatically comforts him asn Jack continues to sob "How could I? I am a worthless sinner. Don't spare me. Rain your tears up on me."

"I cannot." Ianto whispers.

"My heart is as dry as stone."


	15. and it all comes together

"I deserve a hail of fire." Jack begs.

Ianto extricates himself from his embrace. "I'm tired and sick. I need some water."

Jack perceives Ianto's inanition. He carries him down The gallery. Ianto clings on to his bag of belongings. He has nothing else left.

Jack has laid Ianto in front of the fire in the library. He forces himself to eat. Jack gives him wine. He sips.

"How are you now?" Jack asks softly.

"Much better, sir." Ianto whispers "I shall be well again soon."

Jack paces away to the fire. He comes back. Stoops his head down to Ianto to kiss him. he turns his head away. Jack pauses then says sadly "I know you. You are thinking. Talking is no use; you are thinking how to act."

"All is changed, sir. I must change too." Ianto agrees.

"Yes. There is no doubt that we both must change. I was wrong ever to keep you here; this narrow stone vault with its one real fiend. I'll shut it up. I'll pay Mrs Poole two hundred a year to care for its inmate and then no one will be harmed when she is prompted to burn people, to stab them, to bite the flesh from their bones …" Jack waxes on.

"Sir - you speak of her with hate - it is cruel. She cannot help being mad."

"It's not because she's mad that I hate her. If you were mad do you think that I'd hate you?" Jack asks.

"I do."

"Then you know nothing about me," Jack reels back "nothing about the way I love. Your mind is my treasure - and if it were broken it would be my treasure still. You are my sympathy, my better self, my angel. I will wrap my whole existence round you. Let us leave here tomorrow. Come with me - as my mate."

"No."

"I'll pledge you my fidelity" Jack pleads now.

"You can't." Ianto sighs. It's all too clear.

"You'll live a happy, most innocent life"

"I must leave you, sir." Ianto decides. He knows he is right, even if it means leaving his heart and soul in the dark shadows of this tomb.

Jack cannot take this in. "Don't you love me?"

"I do love you - But I mustn't show it or speak it ever again." Ianto is still emotionless and this is unnerving as Jack finally releases Ianto's' hands "I must begin a new existence - strange scenes among strange faces. I must part from you."

Jack shakes his head "Must be a part of me; that's what you mean. You are my mate, Ianto. In truth …"

"You have a wife already."

"I was tricked, duped into wedlock with that demon-hate, that harlot, that succubus upstairs. My father wanted her money and so I was sent to Spanish Town and the match was made. I hardly spoke with her. I was dazzled, ignorant, raw. My senses were besotted and I married her - gross, grovelling mole-eyed blockhead that I was." Jack sits, staring at the fire. "I lived with her for four years. She dragged me through all the degrading agonies which attend those bound to the intemperate and unchaste. Her excesses developed germs of madness and the doctors shut her up. One night, unable to bear her screaming hate and knowing I could never be rid of her, I put a gun to my head to kill myself."

Ianto is both appalled and moved.

"I would have pulled the trigger, died in that tropical place but for a breeze which blew in from the sea and smelt of home. With it, I came to my senses. Bertha Antoinetta Hart had abused my long suffering, sullied my name, outraged my honour and blighted my youth. It was enough. At that moment, as I decided to live, she ceased to be my wife. Only my father and brother knew of the marriage and by then they were both dead. I let my connection with her be buried in oblivion and I brought her here. I have seen that she's cared for as her condition demands and that is all that God and humanity asks."

"I earnestly pity you, sir."

He sees that Ianto is silently crying. "Ianto, it's not pity that I see in your face. It's not pity …"

"Do not say it …"

"It is love."

" **STOP"**

They are holding each other.

Jack whispers sadly "I was wrong to deceive you. It was cowardly. I should have appealed to your spirit - as I do now – should have opened my life, described my hunger for a better existence - shown you my chains. I give you my life. I give you my pledge. Please, be my mate."

"I cannot."

"You would be my equal"

"How?" Ianto tries to pull away but Jack holds him tightly.

"I would make it so."

"You once told me that hiring a Handler is the next worse thing to buying a slave." Ianto reminds him.

Not my Handler…"

"I would not degrade you by having you live with a slave." Ianto is haughty now.

"I said mate, my mate …" Jack blusters.

Ianto tries to rise. Jack keeps hold of his hand. He gently pulls him down again. Comforts him. "Do you really mean to leave me?"

"I do."

"Ianto..." He kisses Ianto gently, lovingly. "Do you mean it now?"

"I do."

He runs his hands over Ianto, with great tenderness. Ianto offers no resistance. "And now?"

Ianto nods.

"Oh Ianto..." Jack lays him down. "What friends would you offend by living with me? Who would be injured? Who would care?"

Ianto is almost lost. He speaks in a small voice. "I would."

"Ianto, it would not be wicked to love me..."

"It would be to obey you. I care for myself." Ianto cuts him off. Ianto's resolve grows. He resists. "The more alone, the more friendless, un-sustained I am, the more I must respect myself"

Will you listen to me?"

"I must listen to myself"

"Will you hear reason?" Jack seizes his shoulders like he is going to shake him, his heart bleeding everywhere.

"Let me go"

"Because if you won't I'll try violence." Ianto instantly stops resisting. He looks at him with utter shock. He is above him. "I could bend you with my finger and thumb; a mere Reid you feel in my hands."

Ianto neither moves nor speaks.

"But your eye; resolute, free. Whatever I do with this cage I cannot get at you. And it is you, soul, that I want. Why don't you come of your own free will here, to my heart? Oh come, Ianto, come …"

"God help me!" Ianto sobs.

All the life seems to go out of Jack. He lets Ianto go. Ianto pulls himself away from him. Ianto stands. He remains, his face buried.

Ianto goes to the door. Jack turns his eyes to him.

Ianto turns away.

,

,

,

,

First light. Ianto is running; flushed, breathless, his pants soaked with dew. he has his bag of belongings over his shoulder. He trips; falls to his knees.

He looks back. For a moment he seems paralysed. He returns his gaze to the route ahead. His need to escape is so great that he crawls forwards until he is able to raise himself to his feet.

He reaches the stile; lifts himself on to it; puts his arms around the post. He holds it, as if it were beloved. His eyes close. We hear the sound of a winter blizzard.

.

.

.

.

**IANTO'S COTTAGE.**

_Ianto opens his eyes. He is sitting at his fireside. Outside, a snowstorm howls. On his knee is a sketchbook. He looks down at it._

_Jack's dark eye is beginning to appear on his paper. He puts a line through it; scribbles it out, blinding him._

_He stands up, trying to escape his thoughts. he whispers: "Jack"_

_There is a loud knock on the door. Ianto starts._

_Ianto is opening the door. Jack is there, standing in the frozen hurricane and howling darkness._

" _Ianto."_

_Ianto pulls him inside. he falls into his arms. They embrace passionately. Ianto is actively pulling him towards him, delirious with love and longing._

**BANG BANG BANG**

Ianto wakes with a start then rouses, opening the door. Stan-Lee is waiting on the doorstop "Mr Stan-Lee - What on earth brings you away from your hearth on a night like this? Has anything happened? There's no bad news I hope?"

"How easily alarmed you are." He takes off his cloak; stamps the snow off his boots. "The snow was up to my waist at one point."

"You are recklessly rash about your own health." Ianot scolds as he banks up the fire.

"Nonsense." Stan-Lee's eyes alight on Ianto's charcoal drawing. Ianto snatches it away too late. There is a moment of silence.

"Why are you come?"

"An inhospitable question."

"I mean on a night like this …" Ianto sighs with an apologetic smile.

"I got tired of my mute books and empty rooms. Besides I've been told half a story and I'm most impatient to find out the end." He replies.

"Please..." Ianto motions to Stan-Lee to sit. He doesn't. Ianto becomes increasingly uneasy as he speaks.

"Twenty years ago, a poor curate fell in love with a rich man's daughter and married her. She was disowned by her family and two years later the rash pair were both dead. They left a son which charity received into her lap – as cold as that snow drift I almost stuck fast in. Charity carried the friendless thing to the house of its rich maternal relations. It was reared by an aunt-in-law; I come to names now - Mrs Reid of Gateshead."

Ianto starts. He is on his feet. The man continues to speak

"Mrs Reid kept the orphan ten years and at the end of that time he was sent to Torchwood One school. It seems his career there was very honourable. He became a teacher like yourself, and left it, like yourself, to be a Handler. He undertook the education of the ward of a certain Mr Jack …"-

"Mr Rivers!"

"I can guess your feelings but hear me to the end. Of Mr Jack's character I know nothing but he professed to offer honourable marriage to this young boy and at the very altar he discovered that he had a wife yet alive. His subsequent conduct is a matter of pure conjecture but when the Handler was enquired after it was discovered that he had fled Torchwood Hall and no trace of him has since been found. Now isn't that an odd tale?"

Ianto sinks to a chair "Since you know so much, perhaps you can tell me how he is."

"Who?"

"Mr Jack; how is he?"

"I'm ignorant of all concerning him." Stan-Lee opens his pocket book and removes a piece of paper. "Well, since you won't ask the Handler's name, I must tell you. I have it written down here in black and white."

He hands Ianto the paper. On it are doodled the heads of some of his pupils. He has absently written Ianto Jones in the margin several times "A solicitor named Briggs wrote to me of a Ianto Jones. I knew a Ianto Elliott. This paper resolved suspicion into certainty."

"The solicitor - Mr Briggs – does he have any news of Mr Jack?"

"Are you not going to enquire why he has gone to such lengths to find you?"

"What does he want with me?" Ianto says without much care really.

"Merely to tell you that your uncle, Mr John Jones of Madeira, is dead; that he has left you all his property and that you are now rich."

"What?" Ianto is aghast.


	16. Ianot hears the truth of things

"You are rich; quite a lord."

Silence. Ianto is flabbergasted.

"Your fortune is vested in the English funds; Briggs has the will and all the necessary documents. You can enter on immediate possession. "At last, Ianto looks questioningly up at him. Stan-Lee sighs "Your forehead unbends at last; I thought you were turning to stone. Perhaps now you will ask how much you are worth."

"How much am I worth?"

"Oh a trifle. Twenty thousand pounds - but what of that?"

The news literally takes Ianto's breath away. "Twenty thousand pounds?

Stan-Lee begins to laugh at Ianto's reaction. Ianto has never seen him laugh before. He chokes out to Ianto "If you'd committed a murder and I'd found you out, you could scarcely look more aghast."

"There must be some mistake. It's two thousand, surely." Ianto splutters.

"It's twenty. You look desperately miserable about it, I must say."

Ianto still cannot take it in. He frowns in disbelief. "Why did Mr Briggs write to you?"

"You see, that is the strange thing. It makes me wonder what power or providence led you to our door. Your name is Ianto Jones."

"Yes."

"Then I'm you namesake. I was christened Stan-Lee Ianto Jones Rivers."

"Stan-Lee Ianto Jones" Ianto whispers with confusion.

"My mother had two brothers," he explains to Ianto "one was a clergyman, your father, the other was John Jones of Madeira. Mr Briggs wrote to inform us that the clergyman's son was lost. I have been able to find him out; that is all."

"Your mother was my father's sister?"

"Yes."

"My uncle John was your uncle John?" Ianto struggles to understand.

"That is correct."

"So you, Diana and Mary …"

"We are cousins, yes."

Ianto is deeply moved. "Oh, I am glad! - I am glad!"

Ianto throws his arms around Stan-Lee. Tears of happiness start to flow. Stan-Lee, finding it peculiar to be held, gently tries to calm him. "Here you are neglecting essential points to pursue trifles. You were utterly downhearted when I told you that you were rich and now, for a matter of no moment, you are deliriously happy."

"Of no moment? You have sisters and maybe don't care for a cousin but I have nobody. I have been alone, always. And now three relations are born into my world full grown. Oh, I am glad. You, who saved my life …"

"You must try to tranquillise your feelings." Stan-Lee grunts.

Ianto finally releases him, still radiant with joy. "Write to Diana and Mary. Tell them to hand in notice and come home. They will have five thousand each and so will you."

"I've told you the news too quickly." Stan-Lee gapes "You're confused."

"Don't put me out of patience, cousin. I am rational enough." Ianto assures him "Twenty thousand divided equally between the nieces and nephews of our uncle, gives five to each."

Stan-Lee shakes his head "This is acting on first impulse. You don't know what it is to have wealth"

"And you cannot imagine - family - I never had a home. I never had brothers and sisters …" A terrible thought occurs to him. "You are not reluctant to own me, are you?"

Stan-Lee takes his hand. Ianto has surprised and moved him.

He looks at him, seeing him anew. "Ianto, I will be your brother."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**SPRING - THE MOORS.**

Ianto, Diana and Mary are running over the moors. Mary has a kite. They are as delighted as children.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto is sitting at the kitchen table letting Diana style his hair. They all have new summer clothes on. There is a lightness to all three as if a great weight has been lifted from their shoulders.

Diana is setting Ianto's hair into curls like Stan-Lee's. Ianto looks at himself in the mirror; softer, gentler, different.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The cousins each have a candle. Stan-Lee kisses Mary. He kisses Diana.

"Good night."

"You call Ianto your brother but you don't treat him as such. You should kiss him too."

Ianto turns to Diana, embarrassed. "Di, you are very provoking."

As he turns back, he finds Stan-Lee's face right in front of him. He kisses Ianto. A kiss with no warmth; an experiment. He examines its effect. He is satisfied.

"Good night." Stan-Lee politely bows.

.

.

.

Ianto closes the door to his bedroom. He puts his hand across his lips.

The icy kiss has agonised him with the full force of his loneliness. He curls up in a ball, desperate.

.

.

.

A glorious summer sunset. Ianto is digging at a flower bed, putting all his passion into the task. He is flushed with exertion. Stan-Lee watches. "You are wasted here."

"Am I not being useful?" Ianto seems worried.

"You should look beyond Moor House," Stan-Le counsels "beyond the selfish calm and comfort of affluence."

"Beyond to what?"

"I go to India in six weeks."

"So soon?" Ianto get to his feet with surprise.

Stan-Lee draws Ianto away from him work.

"I can see what your gifts are and why they were given. Come with me." Ianto is utterly crestfallen. He looks at his feet as Stan-Lee continues "God and nature intended you for a missionary's mate. You are formed for labour not for love. I want to claim you - not for my pleasure but for God's service."

"I'm not fit for it. I have no vocation."

"You're far too humble."

"Stan-Lee have mercy. I feel my mind shrinking …" Ianto tries to comprehend the possibility of a chaste life …well … isn't it already?

"Don't be afraid. You are diligent, faithful, docile, courageous, gentle and heroic. Cease to mistrust yourself. I trust you unreservedly. Let me give you time to think. But know this; in you, I recognise a fellow soul, a soul that would revel in the flame and excitement of sacrifice."

Ianto is chilled to the bone by his words. Stan-Lee leaves the garden and walks away over the moors.

.

.

.

..

Ianto is leaning against the garden wall, trying to think, trying to compose himself. The sun is setting. Why must his life find turmoil.

.

.

.

Ianto carrying a candle, opens the door to the parlor. Stan-Lee is at the table working by lamp light. The moon shines brightly in.

"I used to long for a life of action, to overleap the horizon, to move in the world of men. Maybe God is giving me this. And what is there for me here? Pain and longing for what can't be. I don't know how long I would survive in India. My frame isn't strong. But I'll go with you, if I may go free."

"Free?"

"You and I had better not marry."

"Why not?"

"Because I am your brother."

"But you'll go with me." Stan-Lee looks hopeful.

"Conditionally - as your curate."

"Ianto, I don't need a curate; I need a mate" Stan-Lee implores.

"I must have my heart and mind free, my own self to turn to. I couldn't become part of you …" Ianto argues.

"A part of me you must become or the whole bargain is void. How can I, a man not yet thirty take out to India a boy of nineteen, unless he is my mate? Don't offer God half a sacrifice. He must have all. And undoubtedly enough of love would follow to make the union right, even in your eyes."

Ianto is shocked. "Enough of love?"

"Yes, quite enough."

"Stan-Lee, I scorn your idea of love. I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer and I scorn you when you offer it!" Ianto is insulted as he sees the trap being set. Has he not seen this before?

Stan-Lee is mortified. A slow rage begins to boil in him. "I've uttered nothing that deserves scorn."

"Forgive me but the very name of love is an apple of discord between us. My dear cousin, please abandon your scheme of marriage." Ianto turns away, intending to leave the conversation.

"No; and if you reject it, it's not me you deny but God."

Ianto is stung as he swings back to gape. Stan-Lee has turned from him. His face is icy in the moonlight.

"Do not be angry with me please." Ianto whispers "It makes me wretched. I want us to be friends."

"We are friends. I hope we can be more."

"I cannot come as your mate." Ianto is set now.

"Why this refusal? It makes no sense!"

"If I were to marry you, you'd kill me. You're killing me now"" Ianot is desperate to make him understand.

Stan-Lee is furious now, "I'd kill you? I am killing you? Your words are violent, unkind and untrue …"

"You'd kill me without drawing any blood or receiving on your conscience any stain of crime."

"What nonsense is this?" Stan-Lee scoffs and Ianto sees him as the man he is. Like all the others. False.

"You'd experience no pain - but I tell you it would kill me!"

"Why?"

"Because I would inevitably come to conceive love for you, because you are so talented and good, because there is such grandeur in your look. You wouldn't want this strange and torturing love; if I showed it you would find it unbecoming. And my lot would be wretched." Ianto sobs, his arms flapping.

Stan-Lee sighs, his face now soft as he understands the pain being caused now "Ianto..."

"You're a good man, but you forget the feelings of little people. We'd better keep out of your way lest you trample us." Ianto replies, wanting them to remain as friends, family. He knows this was some brain fart and Stan-Lee now sees that you cannot love a wraith.

Stan-Lee's anger has faded. He is compassionate. This is far harder to resist. "I wouldn't trample you. You'd walk at my side towards God's altar. He'd be your solace, heaven your reward. We seek to do the greatest work, to open death's gates, to save souls. Love God Ianto, love God."

Stan-Lee puts his hand on Ianto's forehead; Christ-like. Ianto is falling under his power. "Give up your heart to Him. He is love."

Ianto falls to his knees. Stan-Lee's face is angelic. "If I were sure; if I were certain …"

She suddenly hears a voice: Jack's; clear, urgent.

_Ianto! Ianto! Ianto!_

He springs away from Stan-Lee, crying "Oh God, what is it?"

He looks wildly about the room; rushes to the window.

"What have you heard? What can you see?"

Ianto glances at him, seeing him for what he is; a cold, controlling man. He shouts "I am coming!"

He runs out, leaving Stan-Lee aghast, behind him.


	17. and I am done!

Ianto runs on to the moors.

"Wait for me!" he cries into the wind.

He looks all around him at the moonlit landscape.

"Where are you?" he roars.

The moors send his question back in an echo. We see Ianto's face. His path is clear.

.

.

.

.

Ianto is waiting for the coach at the crossroads where he arrived, almost a year before. It comes pounding towards him. He hails it. This time, the coachman respectfully descends to take his bag and help him on. He is so confident and so changed that he doesn't recognise him.

**..**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto is walking through the orchard. It is wild, neglected. Its untended state worries him. He looks up. Rooks are circling, cawing.

Ianto finds himself at the side of the house. The ground is pitted with weeds. The windows are dark. He half runs round to the front. What he sees takes his breath away.

The great walls and battlements are blackened with fire. Windows gape on a hollow shell. The inside of the house has collapsed. Through the hanging door, only its charred remains can be seen. Weeds grow through utter devastation.

Ianto gazes in horror and distress.

Ianto knocks on the door of Alice's cottage. She opens it.

"They sent me from the inn. I've been up at the house …" Ianto can say no more, a sob escaping.

"Come in, come in."

"Is he dead?"

Alice takes Ianto in her arms. "No, no. Jack still lives."

Ianto is crying tears of relief. "Tell me - please …"

"Why did you run away in the night like that? I would have helped." Alice grasps his hands "I would have helped."

Alice has sat Ianto on a settle near the fire. "He sought you as if you were a lost and precious jewel. He didn't rest. And as days turned into weeks and no word came, he grew quite savage in his disappointment."

"He stayed at Torchwood?"

"Didn't leave the house..."

.

.

..

.

_Jack, unshaven and unkempt is standing at his threshold._

"Shut himself up like a hermit. He only went out at night, when he walked like a ghost through the grounds."

_We see what he is looking at: an open carriage piled with luggage, into which Alice is helping Toshiko. Leah and Sophie are already sitting inside, dressed for a journey._

"He'd have no one near him. Toshiko was sent off to school. He placed me here. Only John and Martha stayed - and Mrs Poole of course."

_Toshiko looks back at Jack with tears in her eyes. He walks across the dark hall and slams the library doors._

.

**.**

.

_Jack, in his shirt sleeves, is looking at the tree where Ianto promised him his hand - now dying, cleft by lightning. The rising moon inhabits the sky._

"It was harvest time when it happened. No one knows how she got out." Alice explains with a look of sorrow, Ianto's' hand moving to his mouth.

_Jack hears a cry from the top floor. He sets off, a look of finality on his face._

_Grace Poole is asleep, her empty jug of gin beside her._

"My theory is that when Mrs Poole was asleep, having taken too much of the gin and water..."

_Jack takes Grace's keys._

_Jack opens the door to the inner chamber._

"... The mad lady must have stolen her keys and let herself out."

_Bertha Antoinetta Hart, standing in the last patch of daylight thrown down from her skylight, sees that it is Jack. She calmly walks towards him._

_Jack graciously bows, indicating that she may leave._

_Bertha glides past him. She is free._

_Bertha walks past an elegant vase. She tips it to the floor. It smashes. Jack pays it no heed._

_Jack has stood Bertha at his desk. A case of jewels is open before her. She has put on a tiara, a diamond necklace, bracelets. She is gazing at a ruby brooch. She turns to Jack. His expression is calm, resigned. In his hand he is holding the pocket watch, the pretty diamond encrusted chain wrapped around his hand._

_Bertha begins to laugh._

_She takes the candelabra from the table. She admires herself in the mirror; her white shift, the black feathers, the jewels. She holds up the candelabra and sets the huge curtains alight._

_Jack is impassive; he does nothing to stop her. As she passes, Jack realises he is bleeding. She has run the brooch pin across him._

_Bertha knocks a lamp onto the floor. The oil springs into flames, licking the tapestries and the paintings. Jack sees his ancestors begin to burn._

_The conflagration is growing. Jack sees Bertha leaving Ianto's room. As he passes, he sees everything inside it being consumed by fire. He can't bear to look._

_Bertha is watching the rooks. Jack goes to the edge of the roof. Bertha looks at him. The invitation is clear._

_Jack is ready to die._

_Bertha sees the rooks wheeling away. She runs at the edge of the roof. Jack sees her intention too late. He puts out his arm to stop her._

_For the perfect fraction of a second, Bertha flies._

_Jack sees her fall; almost falls himself – saves himself._

_Life reawakens in him. Behind him, he sees Grace Poole, coughing, crawling up through the door._

" _Antoinetta?" she chokes with horror._

_Responsibility floods over him. He goes to her side, lifts Grace, helps her down the stairs._

Alice finishes the story "He didn't leave the house until everyone was out. Some say it was a just judgement on him for having her confined there all those years but for my part, I pity him."

Ianto is deeply affected.

"He's alive child, but many think he'd be better off dead" Alice sighs sadly.

"Why?"

"When he was taken out from under the ruins, a beam had fallen in such a way as to protect him, partly - but his eye was taken out and his left hand so crushed that he lost it. The other eye inflamed and - he is blind." Alice pauses, sobs softly "He's blind."

Tears fall as Ianto rocks with pain.

"I know... it's a terrible thing." Alice whispers.

"I had dreaded worse. I'd dreaded he was mad." A great sense of urgency is coming over him. "Where is he?"

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto is walking through forest, along a grass grown track. His pace is fast; his journey almost at an end. He comes to a pair of rusting iron gates hanging open between granite pillars. He walks through them.

He finds himself in front of a decrepit Elizabethan manor house; no garden, just a sweeping semi circle of meadow grass, which someone has cut at with a scythe. Ianto stops.

Standing on the threshold is Jack Edward Harkness. He is in his shirtsleeves. He stands strong, stalwart, brooding. His hair is still raven black. He is looking hawk. His strength is undiminished.

He walks fifteen paces from the house. It brings him into the middle of the semicircle of grass. He is close enough for Ianto to see his scarred eyes. He walks towards him, silent.

A few drops of rain begin to fall. Jack puts out his right hand to feel them. He raises his face up to the sky as if he is looking for something from there. He is absolutely still; his expression, serene.

Ianto is very close. He steps on a twig. It breaks with a loud crack, shattering the silence. Jack is immediately on guard, his expression turning wary.

Jack suddenly swipes the air with his left arm; the ruin of it passing an inch from Ianto's face. Ianto steps back. Jack swipes again. Ianto holds his breath.

He seems satisfied at last that nothing is there. He turns and walks fifteen paces back to the house. He disappears into the dark interior.

Ianto starts to breathe again.

.

.

.

Ianto lightly taps on the side door. Martha opens it; she is astonished. Ianto puts his finger over his lips.

Jack is in an armchair in front of his fire. Pilot is at his feet. Ianto carries in a tray with a candelabra and a jug of water.

"I can see the candles, Martha, at your side like a luminous glow. And the fire; a red haze." Jac mutters, "It returns so slowly."

Pilot notices Ianto. He leaps up with a whine, wagging his tail, madly. Ianto spills half the water. He cannot help finding it funny. His entrance has been ruined by the dog.

"Martha?"

Ianto giggles. Jack's face falls.

"Martha, is that you?"

"Martha is in the kitchen, sir."

"Who's there?" Jack starts.

"Pilot knows me. Will you have some more water? I've spilt half the glass."

Jack stands, holding out his hand. "If you are real, touch me."

Ianto touches his fingers; puts his hand in his. Jack ulls him into his arms. "His hand, his shape, his size."

"And his voice." Ianto chortles.

"Ianto Jones - Ianto Jones."

"My Jack, I am Ianto Jones: I have found you out. I am come back to you."

For some while neither is able to speak.

Finally Jack asks with wonder "You're not lying dead in some ditch? Not an outcast among strangers?"

"I've been with good people; far better than you" Ianto snorts "quite more refined and exalted."

Jack laughs with delight "he insults me …"

"And I'm an independent man. My uncle in Madeira died and left me five thousand pounds" Ianto reaches out to touch Jack's shoulder now.

"This is real. This is practical."

"I'm here. I'm home. I am where I love best."

.

.

.

.

Ianto curled on Jack's knee by the fire. He is running his fingers over Ianto's face, feeling its contours. "You're altogether a human being, Ianto?"

"I conscientiously believe so, sir." Ianto is running his hands through Jack's hair. "But I see that you're turning into a lion. It's time someone undertook to re-humanise you."

"I'm a sightless block"

"I know." he kisses his eyes. "And the worst of it is, I'm in danger of loving you too well for this, and making too much of you."

"Am I hideous, Ianto?"

"Very. But you always were, you know."

A smile cracks Jack's face.

Ianto runs his fingers over it, feeling its contours.

Jack holds him.

Silence falls.

Ianto watches as slowly Jack's face changes and his damaged eye opens to show both eyes still intact.

Ianto leans in and kisses each eyelid.

"Ianto" Jack whispers as he focuses.

He sees.

Ianto is finally home.

Jack is whole again.

**THE END.**


End file.
